The Distance Between
by Trace of Late
Summary: Sometimes we are surprised to find that the distance between is not as great as we think, if we attempt to overcome the barriers. Such is the case for two unlikely allies. Spoilers through end of game. [BalthierxAshe]
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** The Distance Between  
**Author: **Trace  
**Rating: **T (just to be safe).  
**Summary: **Sometimes we're surprised to find that the distance between is not as great as we think, if we attempt to overcome the barriers. Spoilers through end of game. BalthierxAshe  
**Disclaimer: **I don't own Final Fantasy XII or anything encompassed in it's universe; all credit goes to Square-Enix! I'm just having some fun.  
**A/N: **This story actually started as a post-game plot bunny in my mind, but I felt it would be incomplete without some development during storyline events. As always, please review if you can spare a moment; I'd love to hear your feedback.

**The Distance Between - Chapter 1**

Looking down at the mixture of sand and beach grass beneath her feet, Ashelia B'Nargin Dalmasca felt decidedly conflicted.

Gazing out across the Phon Coast from a knoll in the hunters camp, she wondered how a place so beautiful could exist in such a loathe place as Archadia. She held such a fierce hate for anything associated with the empire that she even cursed the grains of sand as they found their way into unwanted places, like her shoes, and caused her a most annoying discomfort. Angrily, she flicked away some sand to her side, her face furrowed in a look of obvious displeasure.

She had considered what Balthier had said very seriously. Despite her fierce hatred for the empire, she was resolved in herself that she must destroy the nethicite, not use it to further her own purposes. The destruction that the nethicite had wrought on the Leviathan, on Nabudis... was the cost of such power worth it? She had reasoned to herself that it was not. Nay, she would use the Sword of Kings and crush the Dawn Shard with her own hands, of that much she was sure. She did not want war for herself, or for her people; they had lost enough already. She merely wanted Dalmasca to be free of her chains, to flourish as she wished, as was her right. As her father's successor, it was Ashe's duty to bring this dream to fruition. Of course, there was always the underlying doubt. With all the odds seemingly stacked against her, except for this small group of people that had somehow become a part of her journey, how could she turn the tides of an entire world into her favor without the aid of something greater...?

Still, to be obssessed with nethicite, whether to utilize the power it held or to negate that power, was one in the same, wasn't it? Either quest led to the same desitnation: the nethicite. And she would be fooling herself indeed if she tried to tell herself that she hadn't considered using the nethicite to show the Empire a fraction of the pain they had displaced on her... The thought lingered in the back of her mind still, tormenting her on occassion. It was all she could do to push it away, to the edges of her awareness, and yet still it throbbed like an old battle wound, begging for retribution. She couldn't afford to let it consume her, she knew. She was not fighting _her_ battle. She was fighting Dalmasca's battle, and she could not allow herself to dwell on her own passion for revenge. Revenge was reckless, dangerous, and all-encompassing. She had to do what was best for her country, and only so...

Ashe sighed audibly, gazing out at the rest of the camp. The group had decided to take a break and use the morning to rest, replenish supplies, do some local shopping with the merchants, and get ready for the road ahead. Basch and Fran took care of the supply shopping, as they both were very good judges of quality equipment and arms. Fran was especially good at haggling with the merchants for a lower price on their wares, something that had surprised Ashe at first. She supposed, though, that some might be intimidated by Fran's seemingly cool and aloof appearance. In reality, the viera was reserved and watchful rather than aloof; little passed under her perceptive eye. So after the vendors had set up their stalls in the morning, Ashe had bid them both farewell and good fortune and gone about tending to her own personal belongings.

Vaan and Penelo were enjoying the affable weather down at the beach front together. Penelo had taken off her boots and was wading in the water as it rushed past her shins, occassionally splashing water towards Vaan, who was sitting up where the water would not engulf him. Though she could not make out their conversation, the soft murmur of voices that wafted on the wind from their direction indicated that they were engaged in pleasant conversation. For all their hardships, for all their loss, they still remained happy. She wondered what made them so different from her, that it seemed she could hardly take a breath before her thoughts descended somewhere serious or melancholy, and yet they could overlook some of life's iniquities and embrace their current situation with optimism, regardless of where it took them.

Still surveying the camp, she caught sight of Balthier conversing with some rather suspicious looking Bangaa gathered around a small hut surrounded by crates. She scowled a bit, wondering what he could possibly have to talk about with _that_ lot, then shook her head, realizing that she would probably never understand the mind of a pirate. She did have to confess to herself that, though a pirate, he was reliable. She had been scandalized to even associated with him at first, though as she had come to know a bit more of him, she realized that just because his profession was less than honest, that didn't make him a bad person, as she had originally categorized him in her mind. Yes, he did steal, but there were much worse atrocities in the world to be committed. Besides, if she just pretended that that part of him did not exist because she could not see it, she was quite comfortable with him. She had slowly come to terms with this over the course of their journey from the holy mountain Bur-Omisace until they had carefully slipped within Archadia's borders.. During the long days of treking across the lands by foot, she had come to know everyone a little better. Balthier was rather charming and witty, yet always very well versed in almost any topic of conversation. Her conversation with him the day previous had inadvertantly explained some of that to her. Not just anyone could be a Judge, of course. He would have to be well educated in scholastics as well as battle, and his family was probably nothing less than Archadian gentry, which wouldbe appropriate given the station of his father as the director of research director at Darklor Laboratory.

Ashe was glad that he had chosen to share his past with her, or at least a piece of it. Everyone knew her story; it was painted on the canvas of history, something that they had all taken part in some way or another, and continued to do daily. However, everyone had a story, and Ashe had a craving to know her companions'. Her first impression of Balthier had been that he was an incorrigible sky pirate, not worth her time. After that generalization, she had no reason to justify an inquiry to his past. He was a petty criminal, one that she had no interest in associating with past what she was forced to endure due to her deposed situation. How ironic it was that he had once been appointed the duty of dispensing justice to the like of pirates, and now he was one. Or perhaps that was the whole reason he had become a sky pirate after fleeing Archadia in the first place. He was running away, he had said. To become a pirate would be to run as far away as he could from his previous life, from what she knew of it.

He noticed, then, that she had been watching him, if only for a few moments, and gave her a nod. She nodded back politely, carefully hiding the embarrasment of being caught watching someone. She turned her head back toward the view of the beach in front of her. The ocean rolled gently, caressed by the wind, it's differing shades of aquamarine, royal blue, and white foam crests creating a beauty unparalleled by the work of man. She took a moment to savor the image in her mind, as she saw little of it's like in Dalmasca. Though when she would return there next, none could say...

A wave of sadness reared within her upon thinking of her home, her beloved capital. When she was there, everything seemed to remind her of something she had lost. The giant cathedral always brought back the images of her wedding day, which filled her with a bittersweet joy. Her wedding day had been one of bliss and optimism; of looking to the future with an open heart and open arms for her new husband. And yet, so soon had he been torn form her, her father soon to follow. The palace mocked her at times, as if to call her name that she should be within it's walls, doing her duty as the heir to the throne, yet instead she was confined to hiding, so that none would know that she lived. And despite the sadness it brought, it was easy to miss her home, when she was so far away from everything she knew.

So consumed was she by her despondent thoughts that she didn't acknowledge Balthier when he approached her, though she did know he was there. Instead, she continued to to stare wistfully out at the ocean, wishing to be free of all the chains that bound her, but knowing that she could not.

Balthier sat wordlessly beside her. He pulled his gun from his back and set it in his lap, then reached into his belt pouch and removed a small polishing cloth and a small container of oil. He cursed the sand lightly under his breath as he began to disassemble his weapon in order to clean out the insides, so that it might function properly. A corner of her mouth twitched at that, but still she said nothing. Her mind had began to wander again, back to dangerous territoy. It seemed that no matter what she thought of about her home city brought up some unwanted memory of her father, or of Rasler. In her memories they smiled at her. Bitterly, she cursed that they might smile in her memories, when reality would not let her do the same.

The world was heavy on her shoulders.

"So pensive, princess. A gil for your thoughts."

Shaken out of her reverie, she blinked and shook her head a bit to clear it, feeling as though the world had been moving in slow motion as she dwelled on her losses. She glanced over at Balthier, but he was focused on cleaning his gun and not looking at her.

"It's nothing," she lied. "I was just admiring the coast line." Well, it wasn't entirely a lie. It just wasn't entirely the truth, either.

Balthier smiled knowingly, still carefully oiling the inner mechanisms of his rifle. She had a distinct feeling that he hardly bought into her story, but she didn't particularly care. "Surely. The coast is quite admirable, I'll admit." A testament to his sarcasm that he hadn't looked at it since he had sat down, Ashe noticed. She frowned.

"We have little of its like in Dalmasca. It has been a long time since I've seen an expanse of ocean. I would take a moment to enjoy it, as I know not when I'll see it again." Ashe watched as Vaan and Penelo got their belongings together, both laughing a bit as Penelo had to clutch Vaan quickly to avoid tripping as she slipped on one of her boots. They strolled off, Vaan stretching his arms behind his head, looking as though not a care in the world bothered them at that moment.

She heard several grinding metal noises and startled from watching Vaan and Penelo to see that Balthier had finished oiling his gun, and that the noises had been him putting it back together. Now he methodically polished the outside, being careful to rub off any grime that had accumulated from the rigors of battle.

"You know," he started, his voice softer than it had been, the edge of sarcasm suspiciously absent, "You aren't alone in this."

His statement surprised her, and she was sure it showed on her face as she raised her eyebrows, silently questioning. Balthier looked up this time, taking heed of her incredulous look.

"You're always so dratted despondent. You know, it wouldn't hurt for you to..." he gestured vaguely with his hand, the polishing clothing still clutched in his grip, ".. take off your boots and go play in the water or something. Granted, I understand you wouldn't allow yourself that humility very often, your Majesty."

She glared at him for the implication that she was proud, even though it held an inkling of truth to it. And though her pride told her that she should be severly offended that he dare be so forward with her, she also acklnowledged that -- though crass in delivery -- he might have a point. She acknowledged a temporary victory in his favor by retracting her glare, and looking back over at the water. It _did_ look rather inviting...

Smirking a bit to herself, she stood and reached for the top of her left boot and began to undo the clasps that held the plated armor in place. Slipping them off was not easy work, and she had to steady hersef against a nearby palm tree to do so. She caught Balthier grinning at her from the corner of her eye, and smiled to herself.

"Taking my advice?"

"Roll up your britches, pirate. If I have to be less 'dratted despondent'," she mocked his earlier, sarcastic tone, "Then you do, as well." She had succeeded in removing her thigh-high boots and carefully placed them leaned up against the palm tree she had used to steady herself. She turned to Balthier, putting her hands on her hips. "It's only fitting."

Balthier raised an eyebrow. "I'm not despondent in the first place. Besides, I've work to be done," he said, holding up his gun in one hand, "So that we might further _your_ journey. Speaking of work, don't you have any?"

"I thought I wasn't alone in this?" She folded her arms, tilting her head. "After all, it _was_ your idea." She couldn't just let him accuse her of being disconsolate and not bite back at him. Surely he knew that about her.

She grinned inwardly as he smothered a dirty look at her, and then began to take off his sandals, rolling up his pants to a little below the knee. Smiling in satisfaction, Ashe made her way over to the water, Balthier trailing behind her. She waded out into the water until the ocean came up to her knees. Balthier elected to stay behind in the ankle-deep surf. Ashe dug her toes down into the sand, breathing in the ocean air and enjoying the cool feel of the water on her legs. The rush of the surf felt pleasant against her skin, the ocean swirling about her knees as if to envelope her. After a few moments, she looked back at Balthier, smiling slightly. "Is this so horrible?"

He shot her a glare. "_I'm_ supposed to be saying that to you."

She faced forward again, looking out across the great expanse of the ocean. Only able to see the coast out of the corner of her eye, it was easy to be swallowed in it's massiveness. She stared at where the blue of the softly rolling water met the mellow azure sky. She felt so small, and it was so refreshing to feel insignificant in the world, if even for a moment. She wondered what lay across the horizon, further than her eyes could see... For how long did the water stretch? Did it ever end...?

Balthier had made his way up to where she was standing, also looking out at the ocean. Stealing a glance at him, she wondered if he felt the same peace that she did when she gazed out at the world, not knowing where it lead.

"What is past the horizon, Balthier?"

"Whatever your heart desires. If you were a sky pirate, you could discover what lies beyond." His face warmed, as if he silently embraced his own freedom.

She smiled at his wistfulness. "I meant this particular horizon. But I suppose that answer is as good as any."

"I've no idea what lies ahead of us," he chuckled. "Perhaps, one day, we will be able to find out."

Ashe looked back out, sighing a bit. "To go where you please, just because you wish it so... a luxury I could never afford." She laughed lightly, determined not to dwell on anything unhappy, if only for a small amount of time. "I suppose being a criminal has advantages."

"I suppose it does," he smiled. She found herself smiling back warmly, something that had been uncharacteristic of her as of late. His face was genuine, she noted, something she found strange but fitting. For a pirate, he wasn't such a horrid person. No... on the contrary, even.

She looked away quickly, painfully aware that her gaze had obviously lingered more than was appropriate. Balthier politely said nothing, though she could see his confident smirk out of the corner of her eye. She itched to retort, to defend herself and get in the last word, but he had already interuppted the silence.

"I don't know about you, but I think I'm done frolicking in the ocean for the time being. The sand is beginning to chafe my toes in a most unpleasant manner. Besides, I believe the Captain returns with new armaments." He nodded in the direction of the shore, and Ashe followed his gaze to see that Basch was coming toward them. He had a spear strapped to his back while he carried a sheathed sword and a shield in his arms.

They made their way to the shore then, meeting Basch as he approached. "Highness, I've new arms for you, if they suit your tastes," he said. She stepped forward, taking the shield first. She strapped it to her arm, careful to adjust the straps to her liking. After she was sure they fit snuggly, but not too tightly, she took the sword from him. Unsheathing it, she noted that it was a simple weapon, carefully crafted of platinum for strength, inlaid with a small line of gold and some engravings for appearances sake. She gripped it carefully, adjusting to it's weight, and took up her fighting stance, her shield arm out and sword at the ready. She took a few practice swings away from the two men, nodding after she had correctly balanced the weapon to her body.

"This will do quite nicely. Thank you, Basch." She resheathed the blade then, carefully buckling the sheath to her belt.

Basch nodded and made to leave then, pausing and turn his head back to Ashe. "Your Majesty would do well to remember your boots; we haven't the gil to buy you new ones." Grinning slightly, the knight turned and went about to go collect their belongings. Ashe shook her head a bit, looking to see Balthier raising an eyebrow at her, that nasty little smirk ever present on his face.

"The Captain shops for you and remembers to help dress you? Does he cut your food as well, princess?"

She rolled her eyes at him, though there was no real anger behind it, and brushed past him to go get her boots. "You forget," she said melodically, "that I am armed and you are not."

She had a point. He silently yielded, allowing her the victory (though it would be short-lived, of course), and trailed behind her to go get his shoes.


	2. Chapter 2

**Title:** The Distance Between  
**Author: **Trace  
**Rating: **T (just to be safe).  
**Summary: **Sometimes we're surprised to find that the distance between is not as great as we think, if we attempt to overcome the barriers. Spoilers through end of game. BalthierxAshe  
**Disclaimer: **I don't own Final Fantasy XII or anything encompassed in it's universe; all credit goes to Square-Enix! I'm just having some fun.  
**A/N: **First of all, thanks to all who reviewed on the previous chapter! I really appreciate it! As for this chapter,I tried to keep Balthier and Ashe as in-character as possible in various situations. How did I do? As always, please review if you can spare a moment; I'd love to hear your feedback and always take it into consideration. Enjoy!

**The Distance Between - Chapter 2**

The tavern was not musty and dark as most taverns seemingly had a requirement to be. Rather, the large bay windowsin The Whitecap let the ocean breeze drift in carelessly and leave just as quickly as it had come, making the tavern seem strangely comfortable. The small building was quaint in it's own way; a long straight bar was against one wall, some of the tavern's patrons talking idly and drinking from their large ale-filled mugs as they sat there. Tables and boothes covered the rest of the floor, where people might join their acquaintances for a drink or perhaps a game of cards after a long day's hard work on the docks.

Balthier meandered down the stairs, coming from the second level of the small tavern that held the rooms for the inn portion fo the building. After the events at Draklor Laboratory, Reddas had suggested they come to Balfonheim. A busy, pirate-infested port town was the last place any Archadian officials would think to look for them. Most likely they figured that the party had fled the country, so Balfonheim was the safest haven they could have asked for at the moment. And Reddas was paying the bill of his own courtesy, so who was Balthier to deny him his hospitality?

Adjusting his cuffs, Balthier surveyed the pub to see if his teammates had come down from situating their things into their rooms. He caught sight of Fran over by the bay windows, talking with a veira seated there. He didn't particularly fancy interrupting whatever they were conversing about; it was one thing to talk to Fran, and a completely different thing to talk to Fran and other viera. He gave a small nod in her direction when she noticing him, and turned his attention elsewhere.

He spotted Vaan and Penelo over at the bulletin board, scrutinizing the bills carefully. He made his way over to them, giving the board a good look-over.

"Anything worth our time?" he asked Vaan.

The boy frowned, and pointed to a bill containing a very base drawing of a ghoul. "Maybe this one. The petitioner is here in Balfonheim, and the mark is somewhere in the "Cerobi Steppe", wherever that--"

"It's close to here," Penelo interjected. "I heard some of the locals talking about some windmills just down the way in the Cerobi Steppe on our way in."

"-- so I think we can do it," Vaan finished, as if Penelo had voiced the exact sentence that he had been thinking.

Balthier nodded, giving Vaan a clap on the shoulder. "You should hurry, then, because we make for Giruvegan in the morning." Vaan agreed, reaching out to snatch the bill off of the board and examine the map on the back to locate the petitioner. Penelo, rolling her eyes, grabbed it from him and rotated it.

"Vaan, you dolt, you had it upside down!" she said, clearly exasperated. Balthier felt about the same as Penelo did -- for some, there was no hope, he supposed -- but kept the look from his face. Let Penelo chastise him. The boy had good enough intentions, after all. And with the girl to look out for him, he'd get along just fine. A small smile escaped to Balthier's face as he glanced over at Fran. Yes, every good pirate needed someone to watch their back. Vaan was lucky to have Penelo, who would obviously follow him anywhere his adventures took him.

"You comin'?" Vaan questioned, snapping Balthier from his thoughts and back to the present. He shook his head.

"I'm afraid not. Reddas and I have devised a way to get the _Strahl_ to Balfonheim. She should be arriving this evening sometime and I'd like to check her over before we head out tomorrow. Why not find the Captain? He should still be upstairs. Catch him now and he'll accompany you, surely."

"Hey, it's not like we _need _the extr--"

"That sounds like a good idea. Thanks, Balthier!" Penelo chirpped, cutting off Vaan in mid-sentence once again. Grabbing his arm, the young blonde pulled Vaan back up the stairs that Balthier had just descended. Shaking his head at the innocence of youth, he made his way over to the bar, and had only ordered himself a small mug of ale when Vaan and Penelo made their way back down the stairs, their weapons adorning their usual places, and Basch trailing closely behind. He gave the three a nod, calling out "happy hunting", and then went back to fishing out the necessary gil to pay for his drink from his pocket.

He hadn't wanted to ask any favors of Reddas - being a sky pirate himself, he knew exactly how unwise it might be to be in one's debt - but just in case things should go awry, he wanted easy access to his ship. He had inquired about how one might go about bypassing Archadian border security, and Reddas offered full credentials for passage. Never mind he had no idea how the man might even get ahold of such things, but Reddas had assured Balthier that he had a man that was trustworthy enough to pilot the _Strahl_ to Balfonheim personally. Skeptical, as always, Balthier had immediately wanted to know the hitch. It turned out that Reddas' man was also in need of transportation to Balfonheim, so it seemed to be a no-lose situation. Balthier had agreed then, leaving Reddas to figure out the details. He didn't care to know the carefully crafted story that would have to be woven to navigate the _Strahl_ into Archadian airspace, and he cared much, much less to know that some stranger was man-handling his baby, but given the situation he supposed he should be glad that the option was even available. Reddas had assured him that if the _Strahl_ was up to it, she would be safely in Balfonheim's Aerodome by this evening, and that was the end of that. Balthier couldn't help but wonder why the man was so well connected. And the simple fact that he had people across the continent spoke volumes that he was not a "simple sky pirate". A pirate that knew his father, had some connection to Draklor Laboratory... Who, indeed, _was_ Reddas? But there was nothing that could be done about it now that they had already accepted his help. Balthier resigned himself to watching the man more closely in the future.

Taking a sip of his ale, having concluded that particular thought in his mind, he glanced up having seen someone come down the stairs out of he corner of his eye. Ashe was stepping down the stairs and surveying the tavern. She had obviously seen Fran, who was still talking with her viera companion, and finding the rest of the tavern lacking in their allies, made her way over to the bar to take a seat next to him. He noted that for once she did not look particularly forlorn, but rather just contemplative. She took a moment to glance over the small sheet that showed the tavern's drink selection, then called the bar keep over and ordered a hot tea. The man nodded in acknowledgement, and went to fetch it for her.

"Where are the others?" she asked.

"Hunting a mark on the Steppe. They should be back later tonight, assuming everything goes smoothly." She nodded her understanding, and the bar keep arrived and placed her steaming cup before her. She handed the man his due, and after thanking her for her patronage, he went back to cleaning the bar area and organizing its contents.

"You didn't go with them?" She held her cup delicately and blew lightly on the surface of the drink to cool it before it touched her lips. He couldn't help but think that she looked dainty and ladylike then; a passerby would have a hard time believing that this woman was the very same that felled her enemies swiftly and expertly with a blade that seldom missed its mark.

"Not today. I've some business to attend to later this evening." She raised her eyebrows at that, taking her sip and replacing her cup on the saucer.

"And what, pray tell, would _that_ be? We only just arrived." He was tempted to make up some story, just to see if she would believe it. He would tell her, after she had strung her along, of course, that he was playing with her, but that was sure to anger her and she seemed rather content at the moment, so he decided that this time he would not tempt fate.

"Reddas and I worked out a deal to get the _Strahl_ here tonight. I want to have a go-over of her and make sure that nothing is damaged or stolen, because that would displease me greatly." He grinned, as if to indicate that one responsible for such atrocities against his ship would experience that displeasure quite fundamentally.

"I see," she said, taking another sip of her tea. He took a sip of his ale in turn, and a comfortable silence befell them, lessened by the dull hum of idle conversation and chatter of other patrons of The Whitecap. He examined her out of the corner of his eye. She stared into her cup as if it held the answers to all her most intimate questions, carefully trailing her index finger along its rim, lost in thought. After a few prolonged moments, she blinked and shook herself from her trance, and that was Balthier's que to return his gaze to his own mug lest he be caught in the act of staring.

He figured that she had probably been thinking about their confrontation with Dr. Cid at Draklor. It was almost eerie, how Cid had accused her of lusting for the nethicite, when not that long ago Balthier himself had warned her against it. She had shouted that Cid's words meant nothing, but Balthier had a feeling that she had said it aloud more to convince herself of it than anything else, because it was clearly evident that Cid had been unphased. He sympathized with her aggrivation; the man had an uncanny talent for finding your weakness and exploiting it. With Ashe, it was her insecurity of herself that she tried so hard to cover. And most would never see past the strong-willed, intolerant Ashelia B'Nargin Dalmasca, heir to the throne of Dalmasca, daughter of the Dynast-King that she presented to everyone. However, Balthier was an excellent reader of people; he prided himself on his observational skills, as any quality leading man should. Her frustration reflected the doubt she held within herself more than anything, he knew.

Well, Ashe may have been able to puzzle over the complexities of her reality constantly, but Balthier much preferred to push the analysis of his father and his companion to the back of his mind. Such thoughts lead to dangerous places, places that he dare not tread. In need of a distraction, he grabbed a deck of cards set out a few chairs down and began to shuffle them with practiced ease.

"Amalia," he said, using the name she went by in public so as not to attract unwanted attention. She glanced over, eyebrows arched. "Do you play cards?"

She eyed the cards thoughtfully in his hands. "I've played a hand or two. I..." she paused, her gaze shifting, and then smiled meekly, "I fear I am not a very challenging player."

He dealt out a hand to each of them, placing the deck in between them. She turned in her seat to face him, and he angled himself toward her, and the challenge commenced. He picked up his cards, only glancing at them briefly. Instead, he peered at Ashe over the top of his own hand. For such a normally controlled woman, she was horrible at this game; the way she shuffled her cards repeatedly -- trying to make new combinations, he guessed -- and furrowed her eyebrows gave her away that she had nothing. _Hmph_, Balthier thought smugly, _I won't even have to cheat to win this round._

After a round of discarding and redrawing, they both showed their hands. Balthier won easily; Ashe chuckled a bit at the pitiful result of her own hand, as she had failed to create even one of the acceptable combinations. "I told you I am not very good at this game," she chastized.

Balthier grinned. "Most of the game is luck. I'm sure you'll do better this hand."

He almost felt bad winning the next hand after having said that. He didn't think it was statistically possible to get the horrible hands that she was getting, but Ashe merely laughed it off, still taking up the next hand. Again her eyebrows came together in concentration, and she nervously moved her cards about, obviously trying to create anything from the cards she was handed. Balthier chuckled inwardly at her lack of tact.

A round of discarding, and he put his cards on the counter, smiling triumphantly. His hand was not all that impressive, but it would suffice in winning him this round.

Ashe placed her cards on the counter as well, her eyebrows raising as she smiled in surprise. "I won that hand!" She grinned widely, and he shared in her triumph by grinning back despite his loss.

"So you did. We'll make a cardmaster of you yet, Amalia."

She chuckled and shook her head, "I don't know about _that_."

They continued, the hands passing quickly since it was just the two of them, Balthier winning most of the time, and Ashe winning occasionally. Now that he had played a full round with her, he could read the princess like an open book. He had picked up on her small, seemingly insignificant mannerisms that betrayed her hands as though she had said what she held aloud. However, after the first fifteen minutes or so, Ashe began winning more oftne than not. She had insisted that it must be beginners luck. Balthier shot beginner's luck to hell when she had won five hands in a row, and then he realized that that was exactly what she wanted him to think. She had played her cards, quite literally, very well in the beginning, leading him to believe her inexperienced, when he was now realizing that this was obviously not the case. To have known to characterize herself as such right in the beginning showed that she had played more than just a "hand or two", as she had said. He mentally cursed himself for being so foolish; _he_ shouldn't have fallen for her ploy. She had been too blasted bubbly, as far as Ashe went, and he should have suspected something sooner.

He didn't look up at her as he examined his cards. "I hardly thought you would have time to play cards as such an... upstanding individual." He had meant to insinuate her royal lineage. He wanted to crack her facade. _He _was the one who played people; he did not get played, and especially not by Her Most Royal Majesty. Her face was smooth and controlled, betraying no emotion, when she answered.

"I didn't. I told you, I haven't played much before." She smiled softly. And despite the fact that he knew she was lying through her teeth, he couldn't help but smile himself. She looked so sincere and unconflicted, something he rarely saw from her, that he found himself smiling back at her.

They continued for another round, though Ashe had dropped her innocent persona for the most part, knowing that it was useless since Balthier had caught wind of her ploy. For his part, Balthier did the best he could to read her without over analyzing her actions. They had started betting for menial things about halfway through their last round; a couple gil here, maybe a piece of loot they had picked up in their travels. They had been going back and forth between winning and losing, so mostly the goods were just exchanging hands and neither of them were really losing or gaining anything at all.

"Alright, I will meet your 10 gil, and raise you..." Ashe looked up from her cards with a predatory smirk on her face. "One Hastega Mote."

"Oy, you can't do that! The motes are group collateral; they don't count." _Besides, if I had known we could bet other people's things I would have already started betting Vaan's_, he thought, but he figured it might be wise to keep that particular comment to himself.

She scowled. "What do you expect me to bet, then?"

Balthier shrugged. "Anything."

Ashe's face darkened immediately. "Perhaps you've forgotten," she said, her voice sarcastic though it had been lowered considerably to prevent others from overhearing their conversation, "but I don't have any personal affects." She didn't have to specify that all of her things were currently under imperial possession in Rabanastre.

He kept his tone light, recovering without a beat. "One Hastega Mote it is, then." He knew the gods were laughing at him when they revealed their cards, showing that she won that hand. Ashe seemed disinclined to continue with their game, and he had to admit that it had lost its appeal to him as well. They fell back into silence, though it was not nearly as companionable as it had been earlier.

Luckily, he was saved from having to endure that particular awkwardness when Elza waltzed into the tavern, spotting him almost immediately and breezing over.

"Your ship is in hanger four, I was told to inform you," she said, appraising him with her eyes. She was not entirely shy about it, and it was obvious that Ashe had noticed by her snort that she quickly concealed into a cough. He turned and smiled back at her, charming as ever.

"Everything alright?" He could tell she was resisting the urge to glare, which only caused his grin to widen.

"I'm fine, thank you." There was nothing appreciative in her town.

Balthier turned back to Elza. "Thank you. You may give Reddas my thanks if you see him before I." It was almost rude, his dismissal of the woman, but he didn't know her and he didn't really care to. Elza smiled, though it was not as enthusiastic as it had been when she had first approached him, and promptly left, knowing that she had just been told in the politest way possible that he wasn't interested.

He began putting the cards back the way he found them, aware that Ashe was doing her best not to glare at him from the corner of her eye, but wasn't entirely successful in her endeavor. He wanted to throw up his hands and tell Ashe that he hadn't _asked_ Elza to be so appreciative of his obviously impressive physique. Doing so, however, would mean that he felt the need to disuade her that he might be interested in other women... and the motivations that such an act would imply was a path best left untraveled for them both. Too many complications, to be sure. And that was assuming that her reaction had been caused by a personal objection to Elza's behavior in regard to _him_, and not just an offense to her behavior in general. No, it would be best to remain silent.

Ashe, who had stopped her restrained glaring at this point, pushed her long-empty tea cup towards the other end of the counter to signify she had finished, and turned to make for the stairs up to the rooms.

"Not coming to the Aerodome?" he asked, and she half-turned to him, her expression covered with a thin veil of distaste.

"I didn't realize I was invited. I thought perhaps _Elza _would accompany you." Ouch, there had been some venom in _that_. He strode forward and brushed past her toward the stairs, lowering his voice ever so slightly as he passed her. "Why would I care for Elza?" He trudged up the stairs, entering the room that he, Vaan, and Basch were to share. Let her make of that what she would, though he couldn't help mentally berating himself for possibly revealing more than he intended to. It was easy enough for him to admit to himself that he was attracted to her -- what man in his right mind wouldn't be, after all -- but he couldn't allow her to know that. He busied himself with gathering a few trinkets he might need for some touching up on the _Strahl_ and made one last pass over his personal belongings out of habit more than out of suspicion that any of his companions had taken anything. Satisfied, he grabbed the key to his room and left, locking the door behind him.

When he turned, he was only mildly surprised to see Ashe leaning agaist the opposite wall. She looked up when he turned, putting his room key into his pocket, and said nothing, though she did offer a small smile. It was her way of apologizing for assuming, he knew, as her pride would not allow her to say what she felt. He offered the same small smile back, to acknowledge that he understood and accepted her apology. Without a word, they both went down the stairs, Balthier raising a hand in acknowledgement to Fran, Ashe waving a tad bit. Fran nodded politely, and went back to her conversation with the viera wayfarer. Undoubtedly, they had much to talk about between their shared number of adventures, so he left them to it.

Balfonheim was as pleasant as ever. The sky was a piercing royal blue, speckled with clouds ever so often. People trotted along the decks, carrying crates or barrels on their shoulders, fastiduously doing their jobs as they considered plans for the evening after a hard day's work. They often chattered as they moved cargo from ship to dock, occassionally raising their voices in a song of work to help the time pass.The ocean breeze was blithe and darted about the city jovially, carrying the familiar scent of salt and moist wood with it.

Ashe looked everywhere, attempting to take everything in. The breeze played games with the tails of her coat, and they danced in response; it teased her hair, tousling it out of it's proper place and into her eyes. Her eyes scanned everything, eager to drink their fill of the small port town, ever observant, even with the small lull in action in their journey. Their color reminded Balthier of the sky just before the storm: intense, powerful, and dangerous, but not without promise of the calm after the downpour. They fit her perfectly. She looked so surreal then, and his hand itched to reach out and brush her hair back and out of her face. He wondered if she would mind. Would she play it off, pretend not to care? Most women would be bashful, enjoying such a gesture.

Ashe wasn't most women, that much was certain.

He felt his hand raise a tad in expectation. He wondered... but then she had spoken, and the moment was gone, which was probably the better for him, in reality. What had he been thinking? She probably would have slapped his hand away, at the very least, anyway. He forced himself to stop puzzling over the situation and to pay attention to what she said.

"How did you come by the _Strahl_ in the first place?"

"There's hardly a fellow in Archades who doesn't know the name 'Dr. Cid'." He said, nothing in his voice suggesting that he might be related to the man. "I was supposed to be his prodigy, so I was fairly well known in that respect." She had raised an eyebrow at him, unsatisfied.

"And it helped that our family was Archadian gentry," he shrugged. Ashe nodded knowingly.

"I wonder what Giruvegan holds that could possibly interest Cid. I mean, if they can manufact nethicite, why would they need to seek out--"

"Stop thinking so much," he quickly cut in, not wishing to talk of his father or of his past. "Take it easy and relax for the rest of the day. There will be plenty of time to think of the drudgeries of life tomorrow, I promise you."

She glanced over at him, looking as though she were about to retort with indignation. She seemed conflicted within herself, but after a moment of struggle her face finally softened. "Perhaps you're right."

"Of course I'm right," he grinned. "I'm the leading man. I don't dispense shoddy advice." She shook her head at that, rolling her eyes. And while she didn't seem completely relieved of her burdens, she did seem to be less encumbered by them.

They entered the Aerodome shortly thereafter, which was bustling with activity as people lounged about and conversed with the locals as they awaited their flights. He proceeded directly to hanger four, per Elza, Ashe trailing closely behind. A familiar sense of pride descended upon him as he gazed upon his beloved airship. The _Strahl_ was his gateway to whatever he desired, the very tool of his freedom. He gave the outside a quick lookover, hardly expecting to find any damage, and being relieved when it was so. Ashe also scrutinized the ship, though what she observed he didn't know. He went around to the opposite side, punching in the code so that the hatch lowered mechanically. He gave a slight bow and extended his hand, indicating for Ashe to board first, which she did. Her boots clacked against the metal planks of the ladder, his steps less boisterous than her own as he followed her into the ship.

He went about investigating the _Strahl_, his captious eye missing nary a spot on her, and he was glad to know that nothing was missing or displaced. He meandered up to the cockpit, where Ashe sat in the co-pilot chair, examining the controls with interest.

"Well, it seems as if everything's in order. I'd better take her for a quick jaunt just to be sure Reddas' man didn't over do it."

Ashe smiled very slightly. "Balthier, if _your _flying doesn't "over do it", I doubt anyone's does."

He sat down in the pilot's seat, holding a hand to his heart. "I'm not sure whether to be flattered or insulted, princess."

Ashe tilted her head to the side, considering. "I suppose it's a compliment."

Balthier busied himself with the control panel, starting the glosasir engines and allowing them warm up briefly. He hit another switch that raised the boarding hatch and then settled himself into the chair. "Here we go!" he called, and Ashe secured herself in her seat and braced herself for take off.

Balthier shot off out of the hanger, flipping out the _Strahl's_ boost engines to give an extra push from the port, and soon they were rocketing across the ocean. It gleamed in the sinking light of the sun as it rolled, disturbed where the _Strahl_ barrelled past, rustling the wind over it's surface. After a few moments he slowed to a more leisurely pace, glancing over at his companion, who was staring intently out at the dimming sky, her eyes only illuminated by the lights in the cockpit, much like the faintly twinkling stars that were starting to appear in the blanket of darkness that lay before them.

Just as Balthier looked up to check the compression ratio in the _Strahl's_ main engine, Ashe broke the silence.

"I'm not power hungry. The nethicite-- I..." she looked over at him then, her eyes pleading for affirmation of her claim. "I'm not consumed by it."

"I know," Balthier replied gently.

She swallowed, looking away. "He just..."

"Infuriates you? I know how you feel. He knows just how to get under your skin," Balthier said bitterly, knowing she spoke of Cid. "He always was that way. Don't take him seriously."

Ashe sighed, unconsciously twirling her wedding band around her finger. "I can't afford _not_ to take him seriously."

"Princess, no one thinks you are devoid of sense and only concerned with the nethicite. Even if you were, you want to use it to restore your kingdom, and no one would fault you for that." He hoped that she could tell how sincere he was. Judging by the calming of her expression, he guessed that she had. Sighing dramatically, he shook his head."Has anyone ever told you that you're too strung out?" He grinned. Ashe shot him a look.

"No, they haven't." Her trademark glare. "Has anyone ever told you to try taking life more seriously?"

"Once or twice," he replied, grinning, "... but I ignored them."

They retreated back into silence for a few moments before, this time, Balthier broke it.

"So, you think you can handle the _Strahl_, hm?"

Ashe looked puzzled. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you _did_ try to steal her back in Bhujerba."

"Oh," Ashe said airily. "That. I don't see why not. I've flown before."

"That's awfully confident." Balthier's tone was almost skeptical. "Care to give her a spin?" Ashe looked a bit apprehensive, eyeing the control panel with a bit of unease. "I'm not letting you fly on your own or anything," he was hasty to inform. "Just steer her around a bit. It... helps get your mind off of things." He shrugged. "It won't offend me if you don't want to."

Ashe bit her lip slightly, as if she was taking a guilty pleasure by accepting his offer. "I suppose it couldn't hurt..."

Balthier then moved to the very back of the pilot's chair, allowing a small space for her to sit in front of him. Ashe had made to get up from the co-pilot's seat, but when she saw what he intended, she scowled, pausing. "Is that necessary? I _am _capable, you know; I don't need to be coddled."

"Sorry, your Highness, but I won't chance you crashing my ship into the ocean." He grinned, giving her a cheshire wink. "And this gives you an excuse to be close to me. Most women would die to be in your position."

"A pity their lives be wasted for such flippancy," Ashe snorted, shaking her head, but she undid her seat restraints and moved to the pilot's seat. Gingerly, she sat in front of him, situating herself comfortably, making sure that she did not touch him. He leaned back against the seat, hands resting on his thighs. She gripped the steering column lightly, obviously tenative.

"Go ahead. Give her a push," he encouraged. Ashe pushed forward on the column, and the _Strahl_ accelerated at a snail's pace faster than hovering. "You _can_ go faster than crawling," he drawled. Ashe glanced over her shoulder at him and shot him a smoldering look. She pushed forward on the column fervently, and the _Strahl_ lurched forward enthusiastically, racing forward. Ashe startled at the sudden change in speed, and Balthier reached out a hand to her elbow to steady her. She quickly regained her bearings, however, and was soon piloting the _Strahl_ confidently back in the direction of Balfonheim with little assistance from Balthier.

"Not bad, eh?"

He couldn't see it, but from the tone of her voice he could tell that Ashe was smiling. "No, it's very... liberating."

The port came into sight soon, as they had not been far off the coast, indicating that it was time to prepare for landing. "This part is a bit more difficult," Balthier said, leaning forward and reaching his arms around hers, placing his hands atop hers on the steering column. She had opened her mouth, about to protest, but he gave her hand a small, reassuring squeeze and she was silent, her words falling away. He gently guided her hands, still allowing her to do the actual manuevering, until she was in a proper position to set the ship down into the Aerodome's hanger. Her hands were steady beneath his own, and he was struck to see how much smaller they were than his. They looked as fine china, not the hands of a warrior princess. His mind reasoned that this would be romantic with any other woman, the way he so nonchalantly held her, but Ashe took to piloting the _Strahl_ as she did everything else: a challenge to be overcome, an obstacle to be conquered, letting nothing else cloud her vision in the process. "Alright, now slowly release the throttle," he directed, as he reached up to flip the switch that would turn the glossair engines off. She cautiously did as she was instructed, carefully setting the _Strahl_ down in the hanger, cutting the power when all was said and done. She turned halfway in her seat towards Balthier, who smiled, retracting his arms from around her shoulders.

"Well, you've got a ways to go before you're as good as _me_," he grinned. "But not half-bad."

Ashe smiled warmly, ignoring his conceited remark. "Thank you for this, Balthier."

Suddenly he was aware of exactly how close in proximity their bodies were to one another. He could smell the faint scent of her shampoo, it's floral scent intoxicating. He could still feel the warmth of her hands under his. Her eyes, normally swirling and stormy, were becamled and tranquil, searching his. He wanted nothing more than to reach out and kiss her, tell her how impossible and frustrating she was, and then kiss her again. He reached out his hand...

...And made a sweeping gesture towards the isle. "After you, my lady." Ashe got up then, sparing only a momentary glance back at him before she made her way towards the hatch. Her look had been unreadable, though Balthier had a feeling that she might not have objected had he actually followed through with his desires. Conversely, though, if she had minded it would have made it awkward for both of them, something he didn't fancy having to deal with for the remainder of their journey, however long it be. It probably would have been awkward if she _didn't_ mind. Even if his every instinct as a male at his prime cried out in opposition, he had done the best possible thing given his situation. Now if only he could convince himself to believe his own rationale.

They walked back the Whitecap in relative silence, only occassionally commenting on the port town. He made sure to be alert and stay a mite closer to Ashe than he had earlier; undesirables had a habit of manifesting in the dark, and he hardly wanted to deal with a princess-snatching that he wasn't spearheading. When they entered the tavern, only a few patrons remained. Fran and her viera friend were nowhere to be seen, and either were any of their other companions. Balthier guessed that after a half day of hunting, they had probably retired early, exhausted. Stretching as he plodded up the stairs behind Ashe, he decided that sleep was a welcome diversion to his muddled thoughts. Bidding Ashe a good night that she returned, albeit muffled by a small yawn, he unlocked the room and entered. He heard Vaan's snoring before he noticed that either of the men he shared the room with were present, and grimaced..

Sighing, he sincerely hoped that there was an extra pillow to cover his head with, or he would be very irritable in the morning.


	3. Chapter 3

**Title:** The Distance Between

**Author: **Trace

**Rating: **T (just to be safe).

**Summary: **Sometimes we're surprised to find that the distance between is not as great as we think, if we attempt to overcome the barriers. Spoilers through end of game. BalthierxAshe

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Final Fantasy XII or anything encompassed in it's universe; all credit goes to Square-Enix! I'm just having some fun.

**A/N: **So, this chapter is a bit different because of its more serious in nature. I hope I still captured the cat-and-mouse-ness of Balthier and Ashe's relationship, while also maturing it a bit due to the (always) adverse circumstances they must overcome. Also, new chapters will probably be a bit less frequent now, as I have returned to college and science once again consumes my life. That's why this chapter is probably not as polished as the others, because I have had extremely limited revision time. Sorry!

**The Distance Between - Chapter 3**

Ashe could hardly believe that so much had happened in the short span of time they had spent at Ridorana. Reddas, Cid, Gabranth, Rasler -- no, the _Occuria_ -- and the Cryst... it all threatened to swamp her like a tidal wave if she didn't carefully rationalize it all in her mind. An eerie silence had settled aboard the _Strahl_, and she had a feeling that all of her traveling companions were feeling similarly overwhelmed. Looking out of the small port window in her cabin, she saw that the skies were shinning as brightly as ever, something that struck her as ironic. In all the stories, whenever something catastrophic befell the heroes, it was always raining. It seemed unjust to her that the world seemed to be smiling when all she felt inside was empty.

They had decided unanimously not to rush for Balfonheim Port, all silently understanding that they needed time to recover from the dramatic events that had taken place in the Pharos. Ashe was glad of it. She wasn't sure she was ready to tell Rikken, Elza, and Raz about what Reddas had done. Perhaps he had atoned for his sin, but that didn't make it any easier for his friends to accept his death. Vaan had seemed to take it with difficulty; she had noticed that he took a liking to the former judge magister. She knew that he would bounce back quickly, though, as part of his coping strategy was to push forward despite whatever had happened. Penelo had been extremely supportive, immediately at Vaan's side, ready to share his burdens. Ashe was happy that Vaan had someone he could always turn to. He had a good friend in Penelo, and she in Vaan.

Basch had seemed largely unaffected by the events that had conspired, despite the provocative lashings of his brother, Gabranth. Ashe guessed that after being held captive for two years by him, Gabranth's venom had lost it's effect. Still, she could never _really_ tell with Basch. He always put others in front of himself, so even if he was distraught over what had happened at Ridorana, he wouldn't say anything about it, and instead make sure that everything else was taken care of first. She smiled slightly, though it was a sad smile. He was much like her in that respect, as much as a blessing and a curse such a disposition was.

She hoped that Fran was alright. The Mist had taken its toll on the viera in the tower. When Vaan and Ashe had rushed into the ship from the area outside the Pharos where they had fought Hydro, Fran had been in the co-pilot seat as usual, looking none the worse for wear. After they had divulged the details of Reddas' last act of heroism, Vaan and Penelo went to the back of the ship, followed wordlessly by Basch. Fran had said she was going to rest in her cabin, and Ashe couldn't blame her. She had glanced at Balthier then, and though he looked a bit more focused than he normally did, outwardly he appeared unaffected by the death of his father. Ashe knew that wasn't the case, but instead of pressing the issue, she too left for her cabin. She understood all too well the need for privacy after loss.

Balthier had been there for her the entire time, supporting her in his own way. She had noticed how he always stood just slightly behind her all through the Pharos, quietly trailing her as she lead the way up the ancient tower. He spoke very little, and there were none of the usual remarks on her disposition, even though she had been especially withdrawn and contemplative during the long trek up the endless stairs. In their battles, he was always the first to heal her if she should be injured. She expressed her thanks by showering him in protective magicks: spells that made him faster, hit harder, and that shielded him from harm. If anyone had noticed that she had favored Balthier slightly, they wisely said nothing.

She knew they had all whispered about her, about the decision that she would be forced to make once they reached whatever lay at the top of the tower. It was bad enough that she had to decide what to do when she reached the Sun-Cryst. It was worse with her closest friends speculating on her actions. Balthier had never joined in their whispering, something she had been extremely grateful for. And then they had arrived on the hundredth floor of the Pharos... and so much had happened that her mind still had trouble comprehending the gravity of it all. She shook her head, sighing. Now was not the time for such thoughts.

Rising from the edge of the bed, she left the quaint cabin behind, making her way toward the cockpit. Yes, one needed time after loss, but feeling alone through suffering was quite possibly the worst feeling in the world, as she knew too well.

The door to the cockpit was open as she approached, though she could see that no one sat in the seats save for Balthier, alone in the pilot's chair. He looked up as he heard her footsteps approach, his face unreadable, and then turned back to the _Strahl's_ many readouts, peering at them intently. She pressed the switch that closed the hatch behind her as she entered, not wishing anyone to hear their conversation or disturb them. Wordlessly, she sat in the co-pilot's chair. He went about reading the levels of various things on the _Strahl_, occasionally flipping a switch or pressing a button, all the while piloting the ship casually toward Balfonheim. Ashe had a feeling that he did it more to make it seem as though he wasn't preoccupied with brooding, as she could never remember him being this meticulous before.

"How are you?" she ventured.

"Splendid, given the circumstances," he quipped in his usual, savvy tone.

She smiled softly. "You're lying." He paused for a moment, and she thought he might refute her claim with another lie.

"...Yes," he sighed.

"I am sorry for your loss," she said as gently as she could.

Balthier looked up from the controls then, and stared out at the open ocean. "I didn't even like the man."

"He was still your father."

"I just..." he trailed off, his face a mixture of intense emotions.

"I know," Ashe said softly. His gaze snapped over to her now, as if seeing her for the first time since she walked in. He scowled.

"Do you?" he asked, his voice harsh. "Did you have a hand in the murder of your own father?" When she said nothing, he turned back to looking out the window. "I didn't think so. How can you understand?"

She was so stunned by his words that she hadn't been able to respond immediately and was left gaping. She had only been trying to help! Overcome with anger, she got up forcibly and moved to storm out of the cockpit and back to her cabin to fume, glaring at him as she turned. "I think I know a _bit _about loss, begging your pardon!" She raised her hand to hit the switch that would raise the door to the cockpit. However, Balthier reached out and grabbed her arm before she could follow through with the action.

"Ashe, wait." His voice so flat that Ashe relaxed a bit reflexively. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

After a moment, Ashe sighed and went back to the co-pilot's chair, sitting when he released her hand. "No, you shouldn't have," she said sternly. "But it's understandable... given the circumstances."

Balthier ran a hand through his hair, resting his forehead on his palm, elbow propped on his leg. He looked more distraught than Ashe had ever seen, and she wanted to reach out and hold him, her anger at him forgotten, but she feared it would be far too personal a gesture. Instead, she settled for sitting sideways in her chair, arms draped across the armrest closest to the isle, to be as close to him as possible.

"After everything... ignoring his family, obsessing over that damned stone, the whole farce with Venat... it had to end like this. I don't want to care about it, but I can't help it. I ran. I should have done more... Maybe I could have broken through to him..."

Ashe reached out a hand, touching his arm tenderly. "Cid chose his path, just as you chose yours. Everyone has regrets, things they wish they'd have done differently. But we can't dwell on the past, or else it will consume us."

Balthier look up then, smiling ironically. "You might try that yourself, Princess."

Ashe retracted her hand then, looking down at her wedding band sadly. "I..." she took a deep breath, and then continued with more confidence."Rasler is dead. He died two years ago. All this time, I thought I was seeing him... and it was just the Occuria, playing with my emotions so that they could bend me to their will. I wanted revenge. I wanted to cause the Empire the same pain it had caused me. But now... I'm finally ready to move on. Rasler would have wanted that for me long ago." She looked up at Balthier then, her gaze intense. "It took me two years to realize that. Two years to stop being angry at everyone, even myself. Don't let that happen to you. Don't..." she looked to the side, her voice lowering, "... don't waste what little time we have with regret."

"I just wish things could have been different," Balthier said wistfully.

"As do I."

"It's better this way, anyway." A pause, and then he released a sigh full of artificial woe. "What will I run from now? All this time I've been running from the old man, and now he's gone."

Ashe shook her head, but for the sake of his mood decided to play along, knowing that it was his way. "The authorities will surely give chase."

Balthier waved a hand, shaking his head. "Well, that goes without saying. No, it needs to be something that I have a lingering emotional attachment to."

Ashe scowled, a small chuckle escaping her lips. "What are you talking about?"

"Princess, I'm the lead man. I have to have a tragic past that I don't want to confront. It builds character." He spoke as if this were the most obvious thing in the world.

Ashe shook her head, smiling. "You're mad, you know. But if it's of any condolence, I'm sure you'll find something to run from soon."

They settled into an easy silence after sharing a chuckle, as they seemed to do when something serious had blown over. Balthier went back to fiddling with the controls of the _Strahl_, Ashe watching out of the corner of her eye. After a few minutes, Ashe looked up, a small smile adorning her features. "So I suppose you are feeling better, if you can jest so easily."

Balthier nodded, returning her smile. "I'll be fine. Thank you for your concern, Princess." He sobered slightly. "And yourself? Today was quite an ordeal."

Ashe sighed, leaning her head against her arms on the armrest, feeling as tired as she was sure she looked upon thinking of everything that had transpired at Ridorana. "It was just another day. I've not the emotional capacity left to deal with it right now, so I'm ignoring it."

"A strategy as good as any, I'd say," he teased.

"You are the strangest sky pirate I've ever met," she mumbled into her arms, eyes closed.

"And you've met so many sky pirates, your _Highness_."

She opened her eyes, cocking an eyebrow. "I've met you, and that's enough, _I'd_ say."

Balthier chuckled lightly. "Go to your cabin and sleep. You're not being your normal angry, broody self and it's frightening me."

Ashe raised her head then, stretching and letting out a deep breath. "I'm not tired, I'm exhausted. There's a difference."

"Then go and rouse everyone else," he said, his voice losing its amused quality, "because we're about to arrive at Balfonheim." Sure enough, as she had rested her eyes the port town had crested the horizon, approaching quickly as if eager to hear their tales. With a small, inaudible sigh, Ashe rose to do as instructed. She put a hand to Balthier's shoulder gently as she passed, understanding that while he may put up a strong front, that didn't mean that his pain was gone. Without breaking her stride, she touched the panel that lifted to the door to the cockpit, and went about informing the others that, finally, they had returned.

As they exited the _Strahl_, Rikken, Elza and Raz were there to meet them. Their eyes dropped, having noticed that Reddas was not with them. Ashe suspected that they understood the reality of the situation, but they still deserved to hear it.

"Where is Lord Reddas?" Rikken asked. Elza looked down, and Raz stared straight forward, his eyes unfocused.

"Reddas has--" Basch began, but Ashe held up a hand and stepped forward, shaking her head.

"I must do this," she said quietly. She shared a knowingly look with Basch, and then looked to the three pirates before her, eyes sad. "I am sorry to bring you such bad tidings, but Lord Reddas gave his life so that we might escape from Ridorana. He died with honor and valor, and it is my belief that he finally found peace before he returned to Galtea." Ashe stopped, giving them a moment to absorb all of this. "He was a good man," she added softly. There were a few murmurs of consent behind her from her companions with Rikken, Elza and Raz nodding in agreement. Elza barely covered a sniffle before spinning on her heel and quickly leaving the hanger, Rikken trailing behind her solemnly.

"You have a visitor at the manse, my lady," Raz said, and at her nod, he turned and followed the other two out. She watched them go, sadly. So much loss... And if she could not stop Vayne, it would all be for naught.

Vaan had already turned and began walking quickly toward the manse, and Ashe followed, matching his pace. No one else knew of their location, or so she had thought. Her mind raced through all the people she could think of that might request a meeting with them, but she came up empty handed. Giving up, she realized that Vaan was already opening the door the manse anyway, so it was pointless to speculate.

"... Al-Cid?" Vaan asked, the expression painting his face one of surprise.

"We let ourselves inside. The situation is one demanding some haste, you understand," the Prince said, taking his feet down from the desk he reclined at.

Vaan still seemed perplexed. "How did you know where we were?"

Al-Cid gave a charming little smirk. "My little birds... they tell me many, many things." He made his way to Ashe, looking down at her intently. "My lady, the war begins now."

Ashe's breath caught in her throat slightly. "Then... you were unsuccessful in stopping the Rozarrian fleet?"

Al-Cid went on to describe how a division of the Rozarrian army had masqueraded as Resistance members, and then forced the Resistance to attack the Archadians in Old Nabradia. Ashe listened carefully, dreading every new twist to his story. She knew that things were probably as bad as they could get if he had gone through such trouble to find them. The very fact that he was there now, in the bowels of enemy land so far from his homeland, delivering the story in person spoke more than any of his words.

Balthier approached from behind her, leaning against a table so that he was next to her. She glanced over at him from the corner of her eye, and though he listened to Al-Cid intently, a small scowl had appeared on his face. She would normally have been curious about such a gesture, but she didn't have the time to think of such things. She refocused her attention completely on Al-Cid.

"... And the battleground... is Dalmasca." She let out the breath that she hadn't realized she'd been holding, her face falling. So it would come to this after everything she had done...

"Should this fight drag on," Balthier began, "Rozarria will enter the fray, the defense of Dalmasca as their excuse, and we will have a war between empires."

Al-Cid nodded, gesturing for emphasis. "Correct. They will bide their time and wait until the Empire has spent itself against the Marquis. But Vayne," he pulled his hands together quickly;" ...he will crush them and the Marquis both between his hands."

Basch stepped forward, scowling. "Vayne holds the Dusk Shard no longer. His advantage is lost." Penelo nodded anxiously in agreement.

"Vayne," Al-Cid went on pointedly, "has advantages enough. He stands on higher ground, and my birds tell me that he has awoken something quite large." He pulled his glasses away from his eyes, pausing and glancing up at the sky. "_Bahamut_, Lord of the Sky." His gaze turned back to Ashe, who continued listening with subdued trepidation. "There was a stirring in the Mist near Ridorana, I'm told. Bahamut awoke soon after this."

"It was the Mist that came before the Cryst was undone," Fran said, her voice calm and controlled despite the intensity of the situation. "It breathed life into this Bahamut. If Reddas had not stopped it when he did, how much more Mist might it have drunk?" Fran's gaze was directly on Balthier now, as if she spoke for his ears only and the others just happened to hear their conversation. "All went according to Doctor Cid's designs."

Balthier looked down, sighing. "The man's last great accomplishment, I fear. And so it falls to me to put an end to the thing."

Ashe turned from him, stepping forward toward Al-Cid. "Vayne commands _Bahamut _himself...?" She wished that her tone hadn't sounded so skittish.

"He comes to Rabanastre." The faint undertone of sympathy in his voice did not go undetected by her.

She paused for only a moment. "Then I will defend Dalmasca and stop his _Bahamut_. This is my charge --"

"That's our charge, actually," Vaan said, stepping up quickly next to her. She was taken aback at first, but before she could say anything or decline his help Penelo had made her way to her other side, smiling.

"It's our _home_. It belongs to us all." Ashe stared at her, and realized that telling them all to stay behind was pointless. They had come with her this far, and they would see her through. She glanced over to Balthier, who rolled his eyes slightly at her attempt to go forth alone. Fran's calm, supportive demeanor and Basch's subtle smile... She closed her eyes, letting out a relieved sigh. She didn't want to go alone. She was glad that she didn't have to, for she had been alone for far too long. And despite the fact that her fate had been cast into the realm of uncertainty, she smiled.

Al-Cid began meandering to the door, walking slowly past Ashe, his hand at his chin as he mused. "And _my_ charge is to hinder and delay this Rozarrian invasion for as long as is possible." He paused. "Ah, yes..." Turning to Ashe, he grasped her hand in his own, taking off his sunglasses and staring into her eyes unabashedly. "When this unpleasantness is done, you _must_ come to Rozarria. I will take you to the Ambervale of Clan Margrace. Such things I will show you! Until then," he said, his sultry accent tantalizing as he released her hand. "I will be waiting." And then he was gone, leaving Ashe to gaze after him in his wake.

She had not been properly courted in a very, very long time, and the Rozarrian prince was certainly charming. It was only natural to be flattered by his attention.

She heard a frustrated sigh from behind her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Balthier scowl and look away, Fran eyeing him curiously as a mischievous smile played on her lips. He couldn't be... jealous...? Her wistful expression dropped immediately on the realization, though he was looking at everything except her so she wasn't sure he saw. She couldn't deny that Balthier's jealousy flattered her just as much as Al-Cid's attentions had, if not more so. She had shared so much more with Balthier than she had with Al-Cid that maybe, just maybe, his feelings might be more genuine than simply attraction. The meangingful looks her gave her never escaped her notice. She knew that there was... something... between the both of them that always went unsaid. Something lingering at the edge of awareness, something that they both felt but neither would admit to. Why else would he always find a reason to stand beside her? Why else would he have followed her to begin with, when the journey clearly had little to offer him when he was used to the freedom to do as he willed? And why was Balthier, of all people, always the person she turned to when things were beginning to bear down on her to the breaking point?

Such unlikely allies they were. Even more astounding, she had come to think of him as a friend. And now she was finally able to admit, if only to herself, that perhaps they both wished to be more.

"Highness, what shall our next move be?" Basch asked, interrupting her thoughts. Her face set, her earlier thoughts pushed to the back of her mind, Ashe turned, looking at each of her comrades in turn.

"We make for _Bahamut _with all haste," she paused, turning to Balthier. "…If you are willing to take us there. We will surely encounter fighting. You are up to the task?"

He smirked confidently. "I never back down from a challenge." She nodded.

"Before we leave, we should buy the best weapons and protectives the Port has to offer," Basch interjected. "Spare not a gil, for if we fail here... there shall be no need of gil." His seriousness was noted by the entire group, and wordlessly they left the manse, headed toward the armory shop located within the city.

Ashe hadn't a moment to descend into thought before Penelo fell in step beside her, grinning playfully. "Al-Cid certainly has taken a liking to you, Ashe!"

Ashe didn't dare risk a glance at Balthier, who she was sure heard them as he was walking only slightly behind her, though she desperately wanted to see his reaction. "I suppose...Though I think it's just politics."

"Still," Penelo went on, sighing wistfully, "I wish I had someone fawning over _me_, inviting me to far away countries..." Ashe couldn't help but smile when the girl delivered a pointed look at Vaan's back, who was walking briskly at the front of their group, speaking with Basch.

Ashe shook her head. "Trust me, you don't. His flamboyant overtures leave me doubting his sincerity... he hardly knows me, after all." Ashe smiled at Penelo, flicking her eyes toward Vaan. "You're better off with someone whose feelings are genuine, even if he doesn't show it very often."

Penelo sighed again. "If ever, you mean."

"He'll come around," Ashe consoled, putting a hand to her shoulder comfortingly.

"Hopefully," Penelo answered, though her gaze lingered up ahead on Vaan's back. Then she squinted up ahead, spotting the wooden sign for the sundries shop. "I'm going to go stock up on items so that the whole group isn't held up. That's okay, right?"

"Of course. Splitting up is probably a good idea, so that we might save time." Penelo nodded and went up to tell Vaan and the Captain of her plan. Ashe saw Basch agree, and Penelo disappeared into the items shop a few moments later.

Ashe spared a glance in Balthier's direction, and she was slightly disappointed to see that his expression was as cool and unclouded as it usually was. _This is folly_, she mentally lectured herself, _to be thinking of such menial things at a time like this!_

Shaking her head, she approached Basch, stopping the group's march toward the armory. "I think we might get our errands done quicker if we split up. What say you?"

"Aye. My lady, I assume you go to pick magicks?"

Ashe nodded. "I shall. Vaan, would you go see if there are any technicks that might be of use?"

"Got it."

"Fran or Balthier, could one of you see if there's any gambits we may need? Penelo's getting the sundries, so I think that will settle our preparations."

Fran nodding, looked over at Balthier. "I will fetch the gambits. You should go ready the ship for our journey to _Bahamut_, after selecting your protectives."

"Your wish is my command," he grinned, and Fran rolled her eyes slightly... or Ashe thought she had, at least. It was always so hard to tell with the viera.

Upon agreeing, they all went their separate ways. Ashe headed straight for the magick shop, which was just as musty as she remembered. It had only been a few days since she had perused the store, but it felt like an eternity ago. Then, she had been walking blindly, unaware of what lie ahead of her, of what her duty was. Now her path was clear. She was a woman with a purpose again, and only her destiny lay in front of her. And though the situation was dire, she felt oddly calm about everything, because she knew exactly what is was that was required of her now.

She took in the scent of the small shop. It smelled of old books and dust, bringing back memories of the palace library in Rabanastre. The dim lightly made the building feel especially scholarly, and Ashe filled with a sense of pride at her ability to understand the ancient writings contained within. Had it really been so long ago that she stepped inside one such shop, unable to comprehend even the simplest of magicks? Smiling, she lifted a scroll, carefully unrolling it and reading of the magick it held: A powerful black magick spell that would decimate foes without elemental bias. Rolling the scroll back up, she realized just how far she had come. Magick such as this was a far cry from the basic elementary spells she had once been so awed to use.

After carefully making her selections of the newest, most powerful, and most useful magick, she proceeded to the counter. The old man on the other side greeted her warmly, smiling.

"Back already, are ye? Youngins today would do well to follow yer example, miss. Not enough of 'em care enough to get educated,"

Ashe smiled, pulling out her change purse as the gentleman slowly tallied her bill. "Thank you, sir."

"These are some powerful spells ya got here! What's a pretty gal like you need with all _this?_"

"My travels have a habit of taking me into dangerous territory as of late... I prefer to go prepared to the best of my ability."

"Smart girl," the man said, shaking his head. "The world can be an unfriendly place if ya aren't careful."

"Yes," agreed Ashe. "It can be very unkind."

The man gave her the total of her purchase then, and she offered the amount of gil he required. She pocketed the spells, giving a warm goodbye to man behind the counter, and left the shop with her change purse feeling significantly lighter than it had upon her arrival. She began her trek back to the Aerodome, trusting that Basch would pick out her armor and the like. It wasn't that she couldn't -- on the contrary, she had become quite proficient in selecting her own protectives throughout the course of their journey -- but she knew that Basch was still her superior in that respect, and she would leave nothing to chance.

It was strange, knowing that the end of her trials had finally arrived. Well, she wasn't exactly in the clear yet. But what happened after they left Balfonheim would determine the rest of her life, and she knew that if she lost now, there would never be a Dalmasca to rule in the future. But knowing that the finish was so close gave her the strength to press on, much as the runner gains his second wind. _This is what I must do. I will defeat Vayne, or I will die trying. There is no maybe... there is no turning back, not now._

Before she realized it, she had arrived in hanger four, temporary home to the _Strahl_. She doubted anyone would be back yet, as they all had multiple errands to run save for herself. She felt a bit guilty for burdening Basch with tasks that were her own, but he had never complained. In the same way that Balthier carefully reminded her that worrying would do nothing to stop the tide that carried her, it was Basch's way of trying to make things a little easier on her. He was so selfless when it came to her, and she had no doubt that should she need someone to go to the end of Ivalice in her stead, he would do so without question. His unwavering loyalty was a much needed constant in her unpredictable life.

How ironic that she had, for years, blamed him for the death of her father, the ruin of her country, and her subsequent flight into hiding, and now he was her most trusted advisor.

A lot had happened since that faithful night that Vossler had brought the tidings of her father's death, and the need for her to escape the palace with all haste. She felt as though she were hardly the same person she had been then. Two years ago she had been a girl, afraid of what the future held for her, unsure of what her purpose was. Now she was a woman; a strong woman with a hand on her own fate, capable of felling her foes and protecting her friends. Ashelia B'Nargin Dalmasca was a woman with the strength to rule a country.

Or so she hoped.

She halted her thoughts instantly. There was no sense in brining _those_ doubts up to bear upon her. Those would come in due time.

Ashe proceeded up the stairs leading into the ship, letting all her foreboding thoughts flow out of her mind as the trickling stream exits the wood. She was a woman on a mission now, and she couldn't be distracted from it.

Or so she thought. Upon entering the _Strahl_, she bumped right in Balthier. His vest was gone, leaving him in his white tunic, which was unbuttoned at the neck. He held a wrench in his hands, which was smattered with grease. His face shone with sweat, and Ashe held her breath appreciatively for a moment. He grinned down at her after passing, but said nothing, making his way to a small supply bin situated down the isle to replace the wrench and grab a rag to clean his hands. Ashe followed at a slower pace, settling down onto the bench behind the cockpit area. She hadn't calculated that they would have any privacy between her silent admission to herself that she was attracted to him and whatever awaited them at _Bahamut._ She felt awkward to say the least, and didn't have the courage to break the silence when he came to sit next to her, sighing and stretching out.

"So, this is it." His words were light and unfamiliar, as if he didn't believe them himself.

"Yes."

"A fitting end to the story, don't you think?" he smiled.

Ashe raised an eyebrow. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh, you know. The hero pilots the ship into the fray, leading the beautiful --" he winked, " -- and valiant princess into battle so that she might reclaim her country and her throne." When all she did was stare at him in mild amusement he cocked an eyebrow, his look incredulous. "Come now, didn't they read you story books when you were a girl? Or did you cut to the chase and start with politics before you left your crib?"

She folded her arms over her chest, her look dry as she answered. "Court etiquette came first, actually."

"Sounds fascinating."

Ashe sighed, shaking her head. "You wouldn't believe how many different eating utensils there are, and every country has their own ethnic dance that you must learn..."

He gave her a small smile. "I'm sure you'll get to use all that soon enough."

She met his eyes for a moment, and then looked down, her face falling. There was still the probability that she could fail... the probability that none of them would make it out of this battle alive. They had all fought so hard, each of them discovering something about themselves throughout their journey... would it all become obsolete? So close to the end, would they fall before it was finished?

Balthier reached out his hand and gently lifted her chin with his fingers. She looked up, and though she tried to hide it, she knew her apprehension shone through on her face. His eyes were warm, and he offered her a small smile.

She swallowed. "I --"

He said nothing, but silently offered his support to her. She closed her eyes and he withdrew his hand. Taking a deep breath, she nodded and rose to her feet. She heard Balthier rise behind her.

She adopted the royal tone she used when issuing orders and began to walk toward the cockpit, speaking more confidently that she felt. "We should make the ship ready to leave at once. We leave with all haste for _Bahamut _as soon as everyone else returns. That is, if all the maintenan--"

Strong arms spun her about, and Balthier's lips crashed into her own like a tidal wave breaking on the shore. So surprised was she that she couldn't even respond for a moment, but his arms pulled her close to his body. He kissed her with such desperation that she couldn't help but kiss him back, her desperation matching his own in an instant. She didn't dare think of the consequences, but let her body act on impulse. She ran her hands down his chest, feeling the tensed muscles beneath the cotton of his shirt. Her breath was ragged as she kissed him, his arms encircling her tightly and his hands clutching at her back. Her arms reached up behind his neck, her hands digging into the hair at at its base. His hand pressed against the small of her back, warm against the exposed skin there, arching her up towards him. She let her hands roam over his broad shoulders, feeling down the length of his capable arms as they kept her close to him. Her blood pounded and her mind screamed in protest, but she it was too late to turn back now.

They pulled apart slowly, their lips hovering just out of reach of the other's. Ashe's breath came out in pants, as did Balthier's. She yearned to close the gap between them, and she could tell that he had similar motivations from the way his hands still held her shoulders fast.

"What was--"

"Just in case we die," he rasped.

"... Oh."

She inwardly congratulated herself for her brilliant response.

Balthier leaned down, this time slowly instead of haphazardly. She tilted her head softly to allow him access as his lips neared her own, wondering why she had never realized how tall he was until now. Of course, they had never been this close to each other, either--

She jumped away quickly before he might kiss her again. The clacking of boots coming from the rear of the ship signaled that someone was coming up the entry hatch. He looked puzzled for a brief moment before he, too, heard the footsteps and hastily ran his fingers through his hair and fluffing out his shirt. She mimicked his gesture, pulling the mussed strands of hair back into their normal place. She straightened and tried to look as determined as possible, though her mind was scattered to the four winds with emotion.

"The _Strahl_ is prepared, then?" she said, her authoritative voice back in place.

Penelo entered the foyer of the cockpit then, carrying a canvas bag laden with items. Ashe and Balthier turned to look at her, and Ashe smiled slightly, hoping she looked completely controlled. She turned back to Balthier, who looked as casual as ever.

"She flies at your command, Princess." Ashe nodded and turned to Penelo.

"Thank you for getting the sundries, Penelo. I've purchased some spells," she reached down to her forgotten bag of scrolls, "that I think you should look at and learn, if you can license them."

Penelo agreed somberly and sat down with the scrolls, reading them intently. Balthier had cleverly exited, for which Ashe was thankful. She sat down next to Penelo, pulling out a scroll she had yet to read and began to laborious process of memorizing it's contents. She felt the familiar stirring inside of her as her own magick power sought new ways to weave it's web. The spells she had purchased were incredibly strong, and she felt the arcane within her yearn to use them. No doubt she would need every ounce of magick housed within her for the battle to come.

The rest of the party trickled in soon after Penelo had arrived. They all passed around the goods they had purchased and suited up in their new armor while getting a feel for their new weapons. Balthier returned, his vest securely in place Ashe was glad to see, and went straight for the cockpit. The engines of the _Strahl_ hummed to life shortly thereafter, and Ashe inhaled deeply, standing. Looking around at her companions -- Vaan, determined yet optimistic; Basch calm and steady; Fran, inquisitive and wise; Penelo, gentle and committed -- she smiled slightly, and nodded.

Wordlessly, they made their way into the cockpit, strapping themselves in their seats. Balthier looked back at Ashe in the seat behind him. She nodded.

"It is time. To _Bahamut_... and to Vayne!"

The _Strahl_ rocketed into the blue sky without further prompting.

It was too late to turn back now.


	4. Chapter 4

**Title:** The Distance Between  
**Author: **Trace  
**Rating: **T (just to be safe).  
**Summary: **Sometimes we're surprised to find that the distance between is not as great as we think, if we attempt to overcome the barriers. Spoilers through end of game. BalthierxAshe  
**Disclaimer: **I don't own Final Fantasy XII or anything encompassed in it's universe; all credit goes to Square-Enix! I'm just having some fun.  
**A/N: **Whew! I've managed to survive my first round of tests and my first paper of the term (a whooping 10 pages, ouch). To celebrate, I bring you a new chapter. This will be the last chapter that is story-line oriented... and then we go into the post-game world. I have a lot planned for it, and it'll be exciting! Unfortunately, this chapter was very hard to write for some reason, and I think it shows. Not my best work by far, but I'm excusing it because it's a transitory chapter. There will be another short transitory chapter after this, and then onto bigger and better things.

**One more thing**... _Thank you_ to all my reviewers! I read your reviews every day and cherish all the wonderful feedback you give! You all are the reason that I spend my (sparse) free time writing instead of... being non-productive. So, thank you!

**The Distance Between - Chapter 4**

"This is Ashelia Dalmasca!"

Balthier smiled as he searched the bins overhead for the tools he needed to pry open the Glossair mechanism. Ashe's voice rang clear and steady over the radio as she addressed the Resistance forces, echoing authority in every reverberation. He smirked a bit upon discovering a compartment of tools, but it had nothing to do with machinery; how often had Ashe used that very same tone with him?

"I confirm what Judge Magister Gabranth and Larsa Solidor have said here. Please, stand down your attack. The war is _over_. Ivalice looks to the horizon... A new day has dawned..." She paused, her voice changing to a mixture of relief and disbelief. "We are free."

Cheers rang over the radio as Balthier crouched down and pulled a wrench from the kit. He quickly went about loosening the bolts that held the outer panel, preventing him access to the Glossair tubes. Fran worked quickly behind him. He had given her the option of stay on the _Strahl_, but she had refused, knowing that he would need her help for what he planned to do. She had known before he even left the ship that he was bound for _Bahamut_. Viera intuition was truly a marvel.

Grunting as he pried the panel off of the Glossair box, Balthier mused silently. He had acted on impulse when he came into the ship. He hadn't even been entirely sure he knew how to restart the Glossair rings. He hoped that what he had in mind would work. Balthier supposed that he had felt obligated to reign in the beast of a ship; after all, it was his father's creation and he had said he would put an end to it. Letting the titan crash into the city wouldn't do, either. Where would Vaan and Penelo return to if their home was destroyed? He was sure that the Princess would have enough to do after taking her rightful place as Queen, and didn't need a fortress crashed in the middle of her capital to make matters worse.

He sighed. He was going soft.

He set down the wrench and pick up the ratchet, quickly removing the first two Glossair tubes. He sent up a silent prayer that these were the correct tubes, but was jolted out of his reverie when a piece of wreckage dropped very near to him.

A muffled, imperial voice came over the radio. He identified himself as Judge Zargabaath, and Balthier listened with mild interest as he iterated his plan to ram the _Bahamut_. Balthier smirked. _Too bad I've already topped you, old man._ He lurched up and hit the switch on a nearby radio, turning it to broadcast, and went back to work while waiting for Zargabaath to finish.

"... All ships, concentrate your fire on the Alexander's remains once _Bahamut_ is clear of the city."

"Hasty, aren't they?" Balthier smirked. "I think it's a little early to be throwing away our lives just yet." He grabbed the ratchet again, intent on getting to the third Glossair tube.

He heard Ashe gasp before Vaan spoke. "Balthier? Wait, Balthier. Where are you?"

"Ah, Vaan! Sounds like you--" he grunted, putting some more back into unscrewing the stubborn bolt, "--made it out okay! The _Strahl's_ a fine airship, eh?" He pulled off the bolt and removed the Glossair tube, setting it down beside him.

"What does he think he's doing?" Ondore sounded displeased. "Balthier!"

"Marquis! Stop that fool Judge on the Alexander for me, would you? Just getting somewhere with these Glossair rings. Almost done! Don't want him ramming me before I fix them, do we?" There was an explosion to his left, and the pressure from the blast hit him hard on his side, causing him to recoil and gasp.

Ashe's voice came over the intercom. "Balthier! Do you know exactly what it is you're doing?" In the back of his mind he wondered how she could sound both condescending and worried at the same time. _Of course I know what I'm doing. I'm doing it for you._ Coughing to clear the dust from his throat, he picked up one of the new Glossair tubes that had been located in the tool pack, and inserted it into it's casing, pushing it back into the slot it belonged.

"Princess! No need to worry. I hope you haven't forgotten my role in this little story." He picked up the last Glossair tube, working carefully amidst the chaos. "I'm the leading man. You know what they say about the leading man?" He inserted to the tube into the last remaining slot, pushing to make sure it clicked into place. "He never dies."

The ship came to life, the Glossair rings reigniting. He knew that the surge in power would not last long, however, as he had only replaced one of the many posts that fueled the Glossair engines. He had guessed that one post would be enough to get _Bahamut_ clear of the city. If he was wrong... well, hopefully the Alexander hadn't fled back to Archadia yet.

"Let's fly! Fran, power to the Glossair rings." He cringed, hearing an awful crash. After a moment, when Fran had not answered, he glanced over his shoulder. "... Fran?" He saw Fran lying on the ground. Some fallen wreckage had pinned her legs and she looked unconscious. He grumbled as he got up and made his way to her. "Always causing me trouble, aren't you?"

Ashe's voice suddenly came over the radio. "Please, Balthier, get off of _Bahamut_ quickly! _Please!_" He was surprised to hear the pleading tone in her voice. Ashelia Dalmasca begged no one, not even for her own life.

"If you die," her voice quivered and he could tell that she was on the brink of tears even over the radio, "... If you die, I..."

He leaned down and pulled Fran's arm over his shoulder, hoisting her up in his arms. He couldn't even begin to dwell on what Ashe had said, on the implications of it. He could feel in the pit of his stomach that the ship was starting to sink, and he knew he had to get Fran and himself to somewhere safe.

"It's hard being the handsome young man, isn't it?" Fran said, and though her breath was slightly labored she still sounded amused.

He scowled. "Fran, please." She leaned her head against his chest, and he had a feeling that she had dipped back into unconsciousness. He stood up and carried Fran amidst the falling wreckage, coming down in heaps larger than before. He purposefully did not address Ashe. "Vaan, the _Strahl's_ in your hands! You'd better take care of her, you hear? If there's one scratch on her when I get back--"

"Roger that. We'll be waiting for you."

"_BALTHIER!"_ Ashe's pained, ragged voice screamed over the radio, echoing throughout the ship until the connection was served and the intercom failed to operate. He felt the raw emotion in his very bones as her voice lingered throughout the ship, echoing off its walls. Or was it merely in his mind?

At that moment he realized that he couldn't allow himself to go back to her, even if he survived. Yesterday she had been a deposed royal with as much credit to her name as he to his. Tomorrow, Dalmasca would be in the palm of her hand and she would be a servant of her people. She would no longer be Ashe. She was now Ashelia B'Nargin Dalmasca, Her Royal Majesty.Their Royal Majesties did not socialize with scoundrels. Sky pirates did not associate with the likes of royalty, and that would have to be the way it stayed. It was better for both of them that he sever their contact.

Besides, she would forget all about him now that she had her kingdom back.

The bottom of the ship was crashing into the ground now. He could feel the structure of the fortress shaking, dangerously close to shattering. Balthier was glad that his father had been as brilliant as he was mad. Despite the trauma to the bottom of _Bahamut_, the fortress held fast.Balthier spotted a supply closet nearby and dashed into it, closing the door behind him as the fortress began to lurch. Suddenly the power failed, and he was stranded in the dark, cradling the unconscious Fran. The fortress shook violently, and the crashing of falling wreckage was almost deafening.

He hoped that Ashe's voice would not be the last he heard.


	5. Chapter 5

**Title:** The Distance Between  
**Author: **Trace  
**Rating: **T (just to be safe).  
**Summary: **Sometimes we're surprised to find that the distance between is not as great as we think, if we attempt to overcome the barriers. Spoilers through end of game. BalthierxAshe  
**Disclaimer: **I don't own Final Fantasy XII or anything encompassed in it's universe; all credit goes to Square-Enix! I'm just having some fun.  
**A/N: **I was so eager to post the last chapter that I forgot to mention that it was my own mixture of the English and Japanese ending dialogues. I liked both... so I took my favorite parts from each. So, in case any of you were thrown off (or picked up on it) that's why the dialogue was different. Also, another short chapter. Transitioning! I probably won't get to start on chapter six until next week, but after that it's an easy week and then spring break so I should make some pretty good progress. Thanks again for reveiwing, and enjoy!

**The Distance Between - Chapter 5**

It was a pleasant day in Rabanastre, which meant that it wasn't _quite _sweltering. Many people carried hand fans with them wherever they went, mindlessly waving them to create a small breeze when the wind failed. Occasionally, a small cloud would blot out the sun and cast the city in shadow. It was a welcome relief to the citizens of the desert city, though often the clouds passed too quickly for their liking.

The weather was hardly the first thought on anyone's mind, however. Today was far too momentous an occasion to dwell on the _weather_.

Dalmascans from every corner of the desert had made the trek across the sands to be present in the capitol on this historic day. The mood was light and cheerful as children played in the streets, their parents watching with amusement as they chatted with friends or perfect strangers who were friends all the same. There was no fear of crime, just elation.

Today, all Dalmasca rejoiced.

A crowd was gathered at the area about the chapel. The heart of the city, it was decorated with streaming banners of Dalmasca's colors of deep blue and vibrant gold. They flapped in the wind enthusiastically, flaunting the Dalmascan seal with pride. Parents bought their children souvenirs to mark the occasion from the local vendors, and everyone partook in the delicious food that merchants were selling in the joyful spirit of the day.

Horns blared and an excited hush fell over the crowd almost instantly. The trumpets continued their song until their voices, too, fell on the wind. The doors to the giant terrace opened, and several squads of the Dalmascan guard paraded out in unison, their spears angeled to the sky. They lined the standing area, their faces blank masks. They were followed by a procession of important individuals: The Marquis of Bhujerba first, followed by Larsa Solidor of Archadia, who was in turn followed by Al-Cid Margrace of Rozarria, and many others after, all dressed in their most formal attire. Every country or independent nation had sent a representative, it seemed. Though that was hardly surprising, seeing as the Lady Ashe had made many acquaintances throughout her travels, and it was only natural that they would want to see the day she finally took her rightful place as the Queen of Dalmasca.

At the end of the long line of ambassadors, a page wearing blue velvet carried a pillow. On it laid a stunning work of art. Wrought in gold, the crown consisted of many twisting, smooth curves that supported many-petaled flowers. Set in the center of the flowers were deep azure sapphires, surrounded by small studded diamonds that caught the light of the sun and reflected rainbows outward. Small golden chains dangled down the side of the pillow. Some looped back up to connect to another part of the crown, while some merely drifted in the light breeze, their ends weighed down by sapphires, diamonds, or both.

Behind the crown bearer came two men outfitted in full armor. One held the sword of Dalmasca - the same sword that the late King Raminas had once bestowed upon the departed Prince Rasler of Nabradia. The other held the royal scepter. The scepter, sword, and crown bearers carefully stepped to the side of the entry way.

Head held high, Ashe walked out gracefully. She wore a light, sleeveless gown that flowed behind her. It was the deepest blue imaginable, embroidered with flowers and ivy along the breast and down the sides in a gold that shone as vibrantly as the desert sun. She was surprisingly unadorned with jewels; she had a small gold choker at her neck, studded with a single sapphire, and a silver band around her left ring finger. The crowd erupted into cheers at her appearance, and she took her place at the front of the terrace. Ondore stepped up opposite of her, and the crowd calmed. Ashe knelt in front of him, crouched, her face carefully neutral.

"We have gathered here today to witness a very special event," the Marquis began, his magically amplified voice reaching everyone's ears. "Almost four years after the unfortunate demise of the late King Raminas, the day has finally come when his rightful successor will take her place upon Dalmasca's throne, to rule in peace and war with wisdom, strength, and courage in the face of adversity." Cheers rang out again, and Ondore let them subside before continuing.

"Your Princess faced the fires of war and struggled against all odds to bring Dalmasca the freedom it so enjoys today. In light of that, it is with honor that I am privileged to bestow upon her the title of Ashelia B'Nargin, Knight of Dalmasca." The sword bearer unsheathed the blade and held it hilt first to Ondore, who accepted it. Ashe's face bolted up, her eyebrows raised. Clearly, she had not suspected this. Ondore inclined his head, and she bowed her head once again, returning to her former position.

"As a knight serves his lord, let Dalmasca be that upon whom you swear your fealty to protect."

"I swear it," Ashe's voice echoed, and none present would have doubted her sincerity.

Ondore lightly touched the blade to each of Ashe's shoulders, and then carefully rested the flat of the blade upon her head. He withdrew the blade and held it out.

"Rise," he ordered gently, and she did so. The Marquis looked into Ashe's eyes, holding out the hilt of the blade to her. "This is the sword of Dalmasca. May you use it to defend her in times of need, to protect her from those who would harm her people, and may you wield it with the confidence and skill of the knight that you are."

Ashe nodded. "It will be done." She took the blade from him then, and held it close to her heart before letting it fall to her side. The scepter bearer came forward, and Ondore accepted the scepter from him, holding it out.

"This is the scepter of Dalmasca, the symbol of your station. By accepting it, you are accepting the responsibility to preside over the affairs of Dalmasca in favor of the people for as long as you reign. This scepter represents justice, equality, and freedom. May you dispense each equally and with a fair mind and heart."

"Such is my duty." She laced her fingers about the metal of the scepter with her free hand. She crossed it over the front of her body with the sword, and inclined her head as the crown bearer approached.

"These are the duties you have promised to your people. You are accountable to your people first and foremost." He lifted the crown from the pillow carefully. The golden strings fell, and the headdress glinted in the sun. "With this knowledge, I crown you Queen of Dalmasca, to reign until the day you return to the Gods. Galtea go with you in every endeavor."

He leaned forward and placed the crown carefully upon her head. It rested snuggly, the dangling parts framing her face as they twirled throughout her hair. The crowd was quiet as Ashe lifted her head.

"My how you have grown," Ondore said tenderly, for Ashe and her alone. He smiled slightly, and then turned to look out over the terrace. "Ashelia B'Nargin Dalmasca," he boomed. "Face your people."

Ashe took a deep breath and strode to the very edge of the podium. She surveyed the crowd, still anxiously quiet. Then she thrust out her arms, her sword and scepter pointed to the sky. The crowd thundered in applause, yells, and cheers in a volume unprecedented. Her dress billowed behind her in a sudden breeze and the sun shone on her, highlighting her hair and causing her crown, sword, and scepter to shine brilliantly. If any had doubted her nobility before, they did not now. The image of their Queen upon the terrace at her crowning, for all who saw it, would never fade from the people's minds.

She withdrew her arms back to her side, and held out her scepter to calm the crowd. They obliged her, albeit slowly.

"Citizens of Dalmasca," she called out, "Today has been a day long in coming. I know that you have all suffered. We have all lost someone dear to us. I know, because I have lost as you have. And yet, we still press on. Today, we have gained our freedom from the chains that bound us. Today, we are restored to our former glory. Today marks a new beginning for us all.

"I would take a moment to acknowledge the memories of those lost to us. Let us bow our heads in silence, and thank those who have died so that this day could happen." The crowd fell eerily silent as she, too, lowered her head. After a moment she nodded and lifted her head, as did her people. "I would also take a moment to thank those who have helped during my journey. It was a long three years, and I could not have persevered through my trials without the aid of all those who helped to guide me. Six individuals in particular, who without I would not be standing before you, I am especially indebted to. They are the true heroes of today, as unlikely heroes they might be."

The crowd cheered again. Ashe smiled.

"Dalmasca. I will be your sword, I will be your shield. We have nothing left to fear. To commensurate, let the celebrations begin!" The crowed roared again, and the trumpets blared a jovial song. Ashe spun, her train flaring out behind her dramatically, and proceeded back into the chapel, sword and scepter at her side, followed by her procession.

The celebrations did not cease for several days in the royal city of Rabanastre. Dalmasca had been restored.

---

**Author's Note: **In case you want a more visual image of Ashe's coronation attire, some of my inspirations were Eowyn's crown from LotR, combined with Arwen's headdress; traditional royal scepters; and pleateded-bust sleeveless gowns.

As for Dalmasca's colors being navy blue and gold, I'm not entirely sure that's what they are. In the opening sequence, some of the airships have blue and gold banners. King Raminas wears a blue sash with gold accents, and Ashe also wears dark blue and gold. So I figured I'd just go with it. :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Title:** The Distance Between  
**Author: **Trace  
**Rating: **T (just to be safe).  
**Summary: **Sometimes we're surprised to find that the distance between is not as great as we think, if we attempt to overcome the barriers. Spoilers through end of game. BalthierxAshe  
**Disclaimer: **I don't own Final Fantasy XII or anything encompassed in it's universe; all credit goes to Square-Enix! I'm just having some fun.  
**A/N: **So. I knew that I would be slammed when I started real nursing school stuff, but I didn't know that it would take over my life almost entirely. Alas, I definitely haven't forgotten about Distance, though, so here's a new chapter… if you still remember what it's about!

**The Distance Between - Chapter 6**

Balthier pulled out his handkerchief and wiped his brow in distaste. He hated the blasted desert. Being a native Archadian, he had been raised in a much milder-and more _pleasant_-climate. But in Rabanstre, the sun pelted all it touched with its harsh rays. He had realized upon his first adventure into the city why Dalmascans seemed to wear so little in comparison to, say, the Rozarrians, whose clothing was quite modest albeit very elaborate. As he was always loathe to remember upon jaunts into the desert, his clothing was unsuited for the relentless heat. He didn't know if it was possible to get sunburned through one's clothes, but he suspected that the Dalmascan sun was fierce enough to do it, especially given the familiar itching feeling he currently felt on his back. Swearing under his breath, Balthier made for The Sand Sea in haste.

The tavern was a welcome respite to the fervid environment outdoors. Patrons milled about, playing darts, enjoying their drinks, and meeting with friends to discuss the hardships of the past week. Balthier took a seat at the bar and ordered an ale when asked by the gangly barkeep. He scanned the room of its occupants—he had gotten into many a nasty situation in supposedly "safe" areas, so he was always careful to be aware of his surroundings just in case—and was distracted by some guardsmen sitting a few stools down boasting loudly about their endeavors in training that day.

They were young, Balthier observed, and as such being a member of the guard probably dominated their work lives and free time. They went on speaking jovially, throwing technical terms for this battle stance and that block around easily. He grinned inwardly, because he had never had to learn the specific names of cuts and crosses. Combat had always come to him naturally, which was part of the reason he had been made a judge at the ripe age of sixteen; he was able to manipulate battle to suit him, and had not been bound to poses and drills. He was sure that these young men would mature to that level in time, but for now their very existence hinged on the lessons they learned in practice every day. Their conversation carried on about tactics for a while before something very interesting caught Balthier's ear.

"I tell you, mate," the guardsman closest to Balthier said, "If you get the chance to spar with the Queen, pass. My arm is still aching."

"Down some more ale and you'll feel better," his friend chuckled and ordered him another round. "You should have thought about that before you agreed, Alvaro. Lady Ashe is a tiger." Balthier smiled into his tankard at that. He knew all too well exactly how fierce she was.

Alvaro grinned, rubbing his sore arm lightly. "It was worth it, Havard. The way she looked at me when she helped me up, all flushed and panting... It's enough to drive a man mad just thinking about it."

"I'd stop thinking about it, then," Havard piqued sensibly. "She's a bit out of your fleet, I'd say."

Balthier started to chuckle as he lowered his mug down onto the counter. "Trust me," he interjected. "You don't want anything to do with Her Majesty."

Alvaro turned, his eyebrows furrowed. "What would you know of her Highness?"

Balthier gave the man a knowing look. "I know enough to say that she's the most difficult woman on this side of the Estersand. Take some friendly advice and quit while you're ahead."

Alvaro was still scowling and looked about ready to retort when a third guardsman approached, clapping both the men on the back. Their attention was shifted from Balthier to their new guest and the three moved to a table near the wall to accomodate their newely arrived friend.

At least her people admired her, Balthier mused. Whether he would pay the young queen a visit or not he was still unsure. He had finished raiding Belvenia with Vaan and Penelo and had returned with them to Rabanastre. Fran had business to take care of in Eryut, wherein he would be an unwelcomed guest, so he figured it better to make camp in the capital and gather a few days of rest before he set off for a new lead to pillage.

Balthier was hardly an indecisive person, but Ashe was still a mystery with him. A part of him ached to see her, though he would never admit it. He would catch himself wondering what she was doing, if she would think of him in the midst of rebuilding her country...

And then his sensible side would kick him with indignation. So what if she thinks of you? It would chide. She can't act on it, and you won't act on it because she can't act on it, so there will be no acting at all. Besides, the probability of them crossing paths—without an effort to accommodate such a meeting—was, while not completely impossible, less probable than his crowning as Emperor of Archadia.

The door to the Sandsea swung open, and Balthier, always a watcher of people, turned to see who entered. It seemed that the gods sought to humor him this day, and he quickly turned his head back towards the bar. A cheerful clamor rose, with calls of "G'day, m'lady!" and other enthusiastic greetings.

For some reason unbeknownst to Balthier, Ashelia Dalmasca had just strode into The Sandsea, two guards--dressed in civilian clothes yet still obviously armed--trailing her at a leisurely stroll.

His mind immediately tried to plan out ways of escape. Had he decided to see Ashe again, a chance meeting in a tavern was not exactly what he had in mind. He wanted it to be on _his_ terms.

He quickly exhausted the idea of escape. There was nowhere to go, and the barkeep had called a greeting to Ashe and she was now making her way to the bar. No, it would be better to be his normal charming self.

"What brings you to this fine establishment, Princess?"

Having just approached the bar after greeting many of its patrons, Ashe's head snapped to Balthier. Her eyebrows shot up in surprise, and he could tell that she recognized his voice before she ever saw his face.

"Balthier?" she gaped. Speech was lost on her for several moments, before she managed to ask, quite lamely, "What are you doing here?"

He raised an eyebrow. "I could ask you the same. Not exactly an aristocratic establishment, this."

Her eyes narrowed very slightly in what he guessed was annoyance. Most probably wouldn't have picked up on it, but he had been on the receiving end of _that_ particular expression enough times to recognize it almost instantly.

"I tour the city once a week. What's your excuse?" He recognized the edge of contempt in her voice. It had a tendency to come out when she was annoyed with his overly savvy speech. He couldn't help that it still amused him to hear it.

"Your Highness! A drink for ye?" called the barkeep.

Ashe replied distractedly. "Water, please." She looked back at her two guards. "Trite, Yalorn? Anything for you?"

"Nay, Majesty," answered one, a young blonde about Balthier's age; Trite, he guessed, for Ashe had looked to him first when questioning the two. The other, slightly older with woodsy, unruly hair, looked a bit more seasoned, and merely shook his head politely. Trite's eyes flicked over to Balthier. "Shall we post outside?"

Ashe nodded. "Thank you both." The guards nodded and made their way to the outside entrance to the Sandsea. Ashe took a seat next to Balthier, and he nonchalantly studied her face. She looked conflicted, unsure of how to feel, and it made it impossible to read her expression. She didn't say anything for a few moments, and when the barkeep handed her a tall glass of water, she sipped it slowly.

"You've done well with the country, Princess," Balthier commented lightly. Ashe's eyes darted to him as she swallowed.

"I'm Queen now," she said matter-of-factly, though he was unsure whether she sounded resigned or dutiful. Perhaps both. "Though perhaps you didn't know that, since you weren't at the coronation," she added, and though she sounded as casual as ever, he heard a flicker of bitterness creep into her voice.

"I was there," he replied slightly defensively. She looked genuinely surprised as he continued, his voice loosing its offense. "I saw the whole bit, with the scepter and the sword. I _was _there."

Ashe's face softened a great deal, easing the moment of tension between them. "Why didn't you call on me? I was... worried. After the crash of the Bahamut, we all thought that you had perished."

Balthier relaxed and leaned back in his tall chair. "I'm not such a fan of public functions with important individuals, m'lady. I _am_ still a fugitive, you know."

"Nonsense," she replied casually. "You and Fran have been fully pardoned in Dalmasca."

"Really? That's interesting. Lucky am I to happen upon the queen in a tavern," he grinned.

Ashe waved him off. "Hardly. You've been pardoned for more than a month." Balthier raised an eyebrow inquisitively. Ashe answered his silent question. "Since I found out that you were alive, of course."

He bowed low in his seat. "A pirate's humble thanks. Not many of my persuasion could expect the help of the queen," he smirked.

Ashe rolled her eyes slightly at his blatant display of mock reverence. "It was the least I could do. Without your help, Dalmasca wouldn't be free in the first place. Think of it as an act of thanks."

"An act most appreciated, your Highness."

They fell into silence, not entirely easy yet not tense either. Balthier noticed that it still looked as though she sunk into the depths of the most intricate thought every time she wasn't speaking, a trait he figured would never leave her as her mind was always reeling with a thousand different thoughts. The way her eyes stared through the hands that held her water glass in front of her intrigued him, and he wondered what it would be like to have those eyes looking up lost within his own.

He was prevented from continuing that thought path when Ashe broke the silence.

"You never answered my question, Balthier. What brings you to Rabanastre?"

"Fran and I are currently between work right now. I'm here looking for any new leads on treasure troves, ancient ruins, the like... Typical pirating."

Ashe raised an eyebrow. "I'd hardly say you're looking into anything here except the bottom of a tankard of ale."

Balthier scoffed, lifting his chin in an arrogant manner. "I work hard to make a living, begging your royal pardon. I deserve a day or two of rest, I'd think."

Ashe sighed wistfully. "What I wouldn't give for a day of rest..."

Balthier folded his arms across his chest, adopting his characteristic smirk. "We go through all the trouble of getting you your country back, and you complain about the job you so aspired to do? You wound me."

Ashe pursed her lips slightly. "Have you considered changing professions? I think you'd make a wonderful player, what with all your theatrics." Balthier had to chuckle at that, and he was glad to see a small smile play on Ashe's lips as well. "I have been happy to make the sacrifices that I have to put Dalmasca back together. It just... it can be trying."

"Of course it can. But we wouldn't have helped you if we didn't think you could do it." Balthier paused and took a look about The Sandsea, gazing at its patrons chatting happily amongst themselves. "It looks as though you've succeeded.

Ashe smiled, bowing her head a bit in acceptance of his praise. Still smiling, she said, "Speaking of we's, where is Fran?"

"Ah, she's in Eruyt. While she's not exactly accepted, she felt that it was important that the Viera understand what happened and was allowed to relate the whole farce to them. I think she's trying to get them to realize that they must understand what goes on outside the forest because it will directly affect them."

Ashe tilted her head. "Has she met with any success?"

Balthier shrugged. "It's hard to say; the Viera are hard enough to read as it is, and Fran tells me little about her escapades into the village. You could probably get more out of her about it than I could... but then again, I'm not particularly interested in the political affairs of the Viera."

Ashe had opened her mouth to say something, but Yalorn and Trite had appeared next to her. She glanced over and nodded to them, giving them admission to speak.

"Majesty, it is the third hour. If we are to finish the city and be back at the palace in time for the evening meal, we had best leave soon," Yalorn stated.

Her expression was subtle, but Balthier could tell that Ashe was torn. It flattered him appropriately to know that she desired his company, for whatever reasons. However, she _was_ queen now and her presence was required elsewhere... a fact that weighed heavily on his heart, to be sure, and seemed to justify every inclination he had had in making no contact with her at all.

"So duty calls, your Majesty. I suppose our short rendezvous is all a man in my humble position could ask for." He gave her a charming wink if only to hide his own dissatisfaction at their parting.

Her expression held that far off look that it had when she was thinking something through. "Well, I did intend to make a stop you may be interested in, seeing your lack of current employment." Her eyebrows arched, and he couldn't tell if her expression was bemused or scornful. Probably a bit of both, knowing her.

"And what might that be, pray tell?" he asked curiously.

"The Clan, of course. It's been too long since I called upon Mont Blanc; it's time to pay a proper visit. You are more than welcome to join me if you wish it," she said, her tone light. The way she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, nonchalantly but with full intent, told him that she hoped he did.

"How gracious. I would gladly accept, if only to keep such splendid company." He saw the corner of her mouth twitch upward and knew that she withheld a pleased smile. She led the way out of the establishment and onto the street, her guards trailing a comfortable distance behind.

"It's lovely, isn't it?"

Ashe glanced over in his direction. "What is?" she asked.

"Why, being able to walk in the streets of your city without a disguise or a false name," he said. "It must be very... liberating."

She smiled wider than she had the entire afternoon, and he knew that she caught his reference to the time he let her pilot the _Strahl_. "Yes," she agreed. "The city is thriving. It was similar during my father's reign. It's wonderful that things are finally returning to normal." She raised a hand to wave off some of the citizens that had stopped to bow, and bobbed her head back at them courteously.

"The people seem to be accustomed to seeing you about," Balthier commented, watching as Rabanastrians waved their hands in greeting, some bowing at the waist as they continued on their errands, some only giving a head bob to acknowledge her before going back to bartering for the lowest price for a fair of their interest.

"Of course. I do not want to be some recluse of a queen, unknown to them." She stopped to shoo some pigeons away from a meat pie stall. Its owner had been chatting with an amiable seeq not far away. He saw the birds fly up and shouted a thanks to Ashe, who politely continued about her walk. "This is actually--"

"Lady Ashe, Lady Ashe!" Balthier and Ashe glanced to the side where a young girl, her messy brunette hair pulled back in a ponytail, came bounding across the street, pushing her way passed to get to Ashe. "Lady Ashe!" the girl cried ecstatically, giving a small and sloppy curtsey.

Ashe kneeled down to bring herself closer to the girl's level. "Hello, Esri! To what do I owe the honor of meeting you today?"

Esri pulled a small sack from her satchel. "Mama is having me deliver these pasties to the glassworker who fixed our window. He did a really good job and now we don't have to sleep in the cold no more!"

"You don't have sleep in the cold any more, you mean," Ashe corrected lightly. "And that sounds wonderful. I'm sure he will appreciate it very much," she beamed.

Esri reached into the sack. "Would you like one, m'Lady? Mama baked them fresh today!"

Ashe shook her head regrettably. "I fear it would spoil my appetite. My friend may take you up on your offer, however, if you ask him."

Balthier knelt down and ruffled the girl's hair a bit. "I'm sure your glassworker friend earned them righfully. I'm afraid I will have to decline your generous offer, young Lady, for stealing them would be a great injustice to his hard work." Balthier gave the girl a wink and she giggled. Balthier and Ashe stood back to their full height as Esri swung her satchel so it bobbed against her back once more.

"I'd better get back before supper or Mama will have a fit. Have a nice day, Lady Ashe! M'lord!" She curtseyed haphazardly to Ashe and then Balthier and bounded off as quickly as she had come. Ashe raised an eyebrow at Balthier as she resumed walking.

"Declining an offer to take something that rightfully belongs to someone else? Your behavior surprises me, pirate."

Balthier sighed dramatically. "When in Archadia, do as the Archadians do. I have to set a good example in your presence, especially for the children, though it pains me to do so. I could have used a home baked pasty." He shared a soft chuckle with her. "More surprising, however, is your demeanor. I dare say I don't remember you being nearly so people friendly in all our travels together."

Ashe scowled. "I was on a mission, Balthier. I didn't have time to be friendly." She looked up, almost wistfully. "Besides, much has changed since then. Many of the things that burdened me have since passed." She glanced over to him. "You seem to have not changed at all. But I would have expected no less."

Balthier gave her his trademark charming smile. "Would you have wanted it any other way?"

Her look hardened immediately, and if he had not endured her glares and insults time and time again on their previous journey, he may have flinched. "I would have wanted word that you lived before a year had passed. And my ring, that--"

"Hello there, good sir!" Balthier quickly addressed the bangaa posted outside the clan entrance. "I hope her Highness knows the present password because I'm afraid it has escaped me." Now that he had seen Ashe again, he knew he would have to explain his actions--or lack of therefore--but the streets of Rabanastre were hardly where he wanted to have that particular conversation, especially since he figured there might be some yelling involved.

Ashe glared.

"Back to normal, I see," he grinned.Ashe continued glaring. "The password is Serpentarius." The bangaa nodded and opened the door, allowing Ashe and Balthier passage while Trite and Yalorn looked casual and loitered about outside.

Clan Centurio was bursting at the seams with activity, as it usually was. Groups of clan members boasted about their latest conquests, relating tales of mythical beasts with immeasurable strength, near death experiences, and grand escapes from long forgotten places.

_It seems so long ago that I was one of these blokes, listening as Vaan related the latest tale of our endeavors in the field, of our own scrapes with death._ Balthier chuckled almost inaudibly. _Before Vaan and Penelo were sky pirates. Before Ashe was Queen._ He leaned against the wall, content to observe as Ashe mingled about the clan members. None of them bowed in any fashion he noticed, but hailed her with a hand and an enthusiastic "G'day, Amalia!" She would respond in a similar fashion, listen to their latest tale of grandeur, and move about to the next clan member. When she had made her way over to the stairs, she noticed that Balthier had not followed nor had he mingled. She waved him over and he walked with her up the stairs, where Mont Blanc was chatting lively with an armor-clad viera.

"Excellent, excellent Tanj! Yes, for your hard work there will be an equally worthy reward, kupo! I shall let the provisioner know of your success immediately. Please stop by at your earliest convenience." He shook the viera Tanj's hand as she accepted his praises and she made her way out. Mont Blanc's careful eyes drifted over to Ashe and Balthier.

"Ah, Amalia! A sight for sore eyes; we haven't seen you in quite some time! And you've brought Balthier with you, alive and well!" He gave Ashe a slight bow and reached up to shake hands with Balthier, who leaned down to reciprocate.

"I suppose Vaan has told you of my return from the dead?" he grinned. "Also, I'm not sure if you've heard, but our Amalia here is queen now so I hardly think she's in need of an alias."

Mont Blanc folded his arms. "The Lady came into the Clan as Amalia, and her most valuable contributions to it were as Amalia, kupo." Mont Blanc's eyes softened. "The Lady Ashe will always be Amalia here, whether an alias is required or not."

Ashe smiled. "I agree wholeheartedly. How fares the hunt these days?"

"The same as always, kupo. There are hardly any adventurers with your prowess these days, but you set a high standard, kupo! Clen Centurio is now the most renowned in the land, I am honored to say."

"Well, you happen to be in luck. I'd be willing to take a mark for old time's sake if the reward is right," Balthier chimed.

"That is what this business is about, kupo! Let's see here, I do believe I have a particularly nasty beast, located out past the Sandsea in the Zirand Savannah that borders Rozzaria. All I know of it is that four of our members have tried to confront it and all have limped back to Rabanastre in varoius states of confusion. I know not of what ilk the beast is, but I believe that if anyone can defeat the Miresaid, it is like to be your group, kupo."

Balthier raised his eyebrows. "Sounds like a challenge."

"The reward will be handsome, I assure you, kupo. I do not take lightly to beasts that even my most experienced warriors cannot fell."

Balthier rubbed his hands together. "Excellent. I am sure that Fran and I will make short work of this Miresaid, then."

Mont Blanc's brows furrowed. "I would take a third at least, kupo. The Miresaid will be no walk in the palace gardens."

"What of Vaan or Penelo?" Ashe inquired. "Surely they would lend a hand."

Balthier shook his head, waving a hand dismissively. "Absolutely not. I try to avoid being stuck with Vaan if I can help it. Besides, they've got their own pirating to do these days and I haven't the time to babysit them."

Ashe frowned. "You haven't had to babysit them since we infiltrated Archades at the very least. Vaan is your protege. You should take him along."

Balthier winced. "He is _not_ my protege. I wish people would stop saying that. My protege will be smarter. And better looking. And wittier. And--"

Ashe held up a hand. "Point taken, Balthier. You could try being a bit nicer, though. Vaan has grown up in his own right."

"Yes, your Ladyship, I promise not to slander Vaan again in your presence," he apologized blandly, causing Ashe to roll her eyes in annoyance.

Mont Blanc was laughing softly at their antics. "What of you, Amalia? Perhaps you could take on the hunt? If anyone can succeed in keeping Balthier and Fran out of trouble, it would be you," the moogle winked.

"Now there's a thought," murmured Balthier.

Ashe was already shaking her head. "I cannot. I have responsibilities here that require my attention."

Balthier studied her face. Her eyes were downcast; why, he could not tell. Perhaps it was the thought of not being able to be free of her royal confines. But what could a few days hurt? He knew that she had been out of the country for longer periods of time than that on political business before, and her country had managed to survive. And yet he also knew that Ashe was Ashe, and that meant that she would not allow herself to consider her own feelings before the responsibilities of her position. She was a political machine that lived for her country. _Ridiculous_, he thought.

"'Tis a shame, kupo. Hopefully you can find a third." The moggle inclined his head to dismiss them as another member of the clan made their way up the stairs to talk with the esteemed founder. "Best of luck on the hunt, Balthier. Give Fran my regards." Balthier and Ashe made their way out of Clan Centurio where they were rejoined by Ashe's guards as they pressed on toward the palace.

"Come now, Princess. A few days never hurt anyone. We'll take the _Strahl_, slay the beast, and you can return to your life of political pandemonium in time for the evening meal. What say you?"

Ashe sighed. "Balthier. You know it isn't that easy."

"Oh?" he countered. "Why shouldn't it be? I assume you go abroad often enough, and your country has yet to crumble in your absence. How would this be different? Aside from the company being infinitely more entertaining, of course," he grinned.

Ashe peered to him curiously. "Why are you so insistent? What gain do you seek to make by my presence on your trip?"

Balthier held a hand to his heart delicately. "Princess, you insult me deeply. I seek no gain, save your sword alongside my own." Their eyes met and she looked into him--not at him, he saw, but into him--as though she were trying to decipher the contents of his soul from the outside in. He matched her look with one of his own. He wanted to know her innermost thoughts and feelings, her desires, what went on behind those stormy, swirling slate eyes that fascinated him so.

He realized that the silence was beginning to drag on to an inappropriate length given their public surroundings. "And Fran's bow, of course."

She looked away, her head snapping forward as though forcibly pulled, her cheeks holding the most indiscriminant blush.

_This is why you didn't want to see her again, you fool,_ he chastised himself.

"You and Fran are free to stay at the palace if you wish it," Ashe offered. "We have no dignitaries present at the moment, so the suites are vacant." Her eyes narrowed. "So long as nothing is missing in the morning, that is."

Balthier shook his head. "I will decline your offer this time, m'lady. The _Strahl_ is luxurious enough for me. Besides, I assume Fran and I will be departing early in the morning for the Zirand Savannah and I'd rather not wade through your court to get to the _Strahl_."

Ashe nodded in understanding. "The offer stands if you ever find yourself in Rabanastre. Dalmasca does not forget her friends and allies."

Balthier nodded in thanks, but he couldn't help but wonder if perhaps it was the Queen who did not forget her friends. He had a hard time believing that her staff of advisors would find the harboring of known criminals acceptable. Though he supposed that being responsible for the fact that the capital was still standing would be enough for them to hold their tongues.

"This is where we part ways, I'm afraid." She sounded resigned, he was flattered to hear.

"Aye, most unfortunate. Well, if you decide before morning that you've earned some time off of the job, you know where to find me."

"Balthier..." she sighed.

"Just consider it." All sarcasm, wit, and charm were gone from his voice. For once, he was completely sincere. "That is all I ask."

She paused lengthily. "... I shall." And then she scowled. "And you are hardly in the position to be making requests, pirate. Don't forget that I am still angry with you. Perhaps if I join you on your romp in the savannah we could discuss why at length."

"As her Highness wishes," he smiled, giving an elegant, low-sweeping bow. She rolled her eyes.

"Galtea watch over your life, Balthier. You need it."

"See you, Princess," he grinned.

And they parted, Ashe's expression one of deep thought, whereas Balthier's held only satisfaction.


End file.
